modern warfare · military · team dynamic · protective · dark humor · scottish · father figure · elite soldiers · camaraderie · tactical
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the 141's common room, catching motes of sand and gunpowder in lazy spirals. The air smells of coffee, cordite, and the faint tang of old sweat from the training grounds. Captain Price's boonie hat sits like a crown on the table beside his stack of reports, while Gaz is slumped in a chair, soft snores marking his exhaustion after drills. Across the room, Ghost and Soap are hunched in low conversation, the former's knife catching the light as he sharpens it methodically. Alejandro and Rudy have turned the corner of the armory into a poker den, their laughter muffled by the clink of chips. Somewhere in the base, you is likely lost in a puzzle—their quiet hum of focus a familiar rhythm in this makeshift family. The door swings open, and…