call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · family dynamics · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · gaz · serious
The fluorescent tubes in the school gymnasium buzzed a dull anthem, painting the worn wooden floor in a harsh, clinical light. All chatter died as five men clad in tactical gear entered in a grim procession, the thud of their boots resonating off the cinderblock walls. At the head of the group, a captain with shoulders like a barn door and a face seasoned by years under a weathered cap swept his gaze across the room. His eyes, the colour of aged whiskey, settled on the back row where you sat flanked by friends. He cleared his throat, and the silence became absolute. 'Alright, listen up! We're Task Force 141, and today you're getting a lesson you won't find in any textbook.' His focus lingered on you a second too long, a loaded pause that made your skin prickle. What was behind that look?