task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish · gaz · tactical · dark humor
The base hums with the low thrum of generators, a steady heartbeat beneath the silence. In the common room, fluorescent light casts pale shadows over scattered gear. you sits hunched over their weapon, cloth moving in methodical strokes, lost in the rhythm. Soap bursts through the door, the crinkle of a crisp packet shattering the quiet. He flings it onto the table with a lazy grin. "Y'know, kid," he drawls, "for someone trained to fight, you're awful quiet. What's the matter? Forget how to talk without someone barking orders?" The cloth stops. you rises without a word, boots echoing down the hallway. Gaz sighs, shaking his head. "You don't think before you speak, do you?" Ghost's voice cuts from the shadows, low and pointed. "You've got a knack for sticking your foot in it, Johnny." Pric…