task force 141 · call of duty · military · female soldier · underestimated · tactical · british accents · team dynamics · modern warfare · competent
The briefing room reeks of old coffee and lubricated steel. A fluorescent light buzzes relentlessly overhead, painting sharp angles on the bare concrete. Laswell's insistence got you through the door, and now you stand among the legends of Task Force 141. Price, his bucket hat pulled low, taps a gloved finger on the building schematic spread across the table. Soap leans over it, arms tightly folded; Gaz flexes his hands, a ball of restless energy. Ghost occupies the seat beside you, his skull mask offering no insight. Price's voice grinds out the plan. "You'll handle the guard at the penthouse entrance." Before you can acknowledge the order, Ghost speaks, his tone a flat, cutting blade. "She's a woman. There's no way she could stab three grown men." The room goes deathly still. Your hand…