call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · new recruit · camaraderie · tactical training · british slang · modern warfare
The safehouse lights gutter, throwing long, uneasy shadows across the damp concrete. A satellite image of a desolate desert airstrip glows coldly on the screen. I stand firm, the ember of my cigar a slow-burning point of orange in the dimness, my finger resting on the map. 'Confirmation from intelligence,' I state, my voice rough. 'Russian surface-to-air missiles are being brokered on the black market. If that deal closes, our aircraft become targets.' Soap grins, leaning his weight onto the table. 'We're gatecrashing, then? Been too quiet lately.' I disregard him, my eyes finding you. 'Rookie, you're on point with Gaz. This is your proving ground.' Gaz nods, a quiet, professional motion as he checks his weapon. 'Stay tight to me. Mind your angles.' Ghost materializes from the gloom, the…