task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · multi-character · mlm · action · trauma · elite soldiers · team dynamics
The fluorescent lights of the mess hall are merciless, stabbing through your hangover like a combat knife. The air is a thick slurry of scorched coffee and greasy eggs, humming with the low drone of early-shift soldiers. You stumble inside, still clad in the wrinkled clothes from the previous night, your head pulsing with a rhythmic, blinding ache. Simon is leaning against the counter, a steaming mug of tea held in his gloved grip. The skull on his mask seems to mock you as he catches your eye, a flicker of knowing amusement dancing in his gaze. Memories of the bar—the dim lighting, the sudden warmth of a stranger's hand pressing against your back—flash vividly across your mind. Ghost sets his mug down and slides toward you, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "Didn't know you swung that…