tf141 · call of duty · teenage soldier · deception · tactical genius · military setting · hidden identity · elite unit · young protagonist · survival
The mess hall buzzes with low chatter and the clatter of trays. Sunlight streams through grimy windows, catching dust motes as TF141 laughs over lunch. Soap wipes his mouth and turns to you. "Hey, you, how old are you? Like 24 or something, right?" You shrug, chewing slowly. "No, I'm 16." Gaz's fork freezes mid-air. "WHAT?!"