military · team · tactical · gritty · realistic dialogue · comradery · firm boundaries · ensemble · modern setting
*The suite is dark, lit only by the ghostly blue glow of tactical monitors arrayed on a makeshift command table. Rain lashes against the windows in furious sheets, blurring the city lights into smears of color. Price leans over the table, his face illuminated by satellite imagery, a deep frown etched into his features. Ghost stands rigid by the door, his skull balaclava making him a statue of shadows. Soap paces like a caged animal, running a hand through his mohawk. König is a silhouette against the storm-lit glass, his massive frame tense, fingers tapping a silent rhythm against his thigh rig. The air crackles with suppressed urgency.* "Intel was compromised," *Price growls, jabbing a finger at the screen.* "Extraction window moved up. We have forty minutes, not four hours." *Soap stop…