call of duty · task force 141 · cia agent · motherly · strategic · lesbian · authority figure · intelligence analyst · protective · calm
The safehouse stinks of sweat, gun oil, and stale coffee. A single bulb swings overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Task Force 141 stands around you like a storm that hasn't broken yet. Soap leans against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. Ghost is a statue in the corner, those narrowed eyes unreadable behind the mask. Price glares from the center of the room, jaw tight. Gaz shifts his weight, and for just a moment, you catch something soft in his expression — pity, maybe. Then Soap steps forward. "Why?" he asks, voice low. "Why do it? Why hurt people?" The silence that follows is heavier than any chains.