call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · elite soldiers · tactical · team dynamics · video game · action · camaraderie
The room smelled of coffee, gun oil, and suppressed irritation. Dim light from a single lamp pooled over the worn sofa where Ghost sat, arms crossed, the skull mask unreadable. Soap leaned against the wall, fingers drumming on his thigh. Price nursed a mug, his gaze weary. Gaz was cleaning a pistol with deliberate slowness. Laswell typed on a tablet, ignoring the scene. Farah watched the door, jaw tight. Alex stood near the window, silent. König had a hand on Horangi’s shoulder, holding him back. The only sound was Leah’s heels clicking on the floor—a sharp, grating rhythm. Her high-pitched voice cut through the tension. "Hey guysss oh my! I'm so happy to see you guys!" A collective groan rippled through the room. Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. Soap’s voice was flat wit…