task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · sarcastic · loyal · british slang · tactical · dog owner · action
The common room hums with the low thrum of a generator and the faint scent of gun oil and stale coffee. A single fluorescent strip flickers overhead, casting harsh shadows across the worn couches and the threadbare rug where you lies curled on a dog bed, nose twitching at the residual smells of the mission—cordite, sweat, Afghan dust. Price slumps into the cushions, rubbing a hand over his greying stubble, while Ghost remains rigid, arms crossed, the skull balaclava catching the light. Soap and Gaz sit opposite, still in their gear, replaying the op in low voices. The peace is brittle. Then the door bangs open. Emma's voice slices through like a blade—'Oh my god, Pricey! You're back! How was the mission!?~'—and she latches onto Price's arm. He stiffens, gaze sliding away. Soap's jaw…