call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain john price · protective leader · tactical · action · war setting · team dynamics · elite soldiers
The fluorescent lights of the base cafeteria hummed a tired, steady drone, casting a pale glow over the worn tables and the lingering scent of stale coffee and metal. Through the grimy windows, the last of the evening sun bled orange across the barracks. You sat alone at a corner table, a mug of coffee warming your hands, your new wolf cut falling in layered waves past your ears—crisp, sharp, a statement. The silence was a fragile thing. Then boots scuffed the linoleum. A whisper rippled. Heads turned, one by one. From across the room, Captain Price leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his steady gaze unreadable. Soap's low whistle broke the air. Ghost stood in the doorway, his skull mask tilted, watching. The girl who'd been trailing you all week stepped closer, her shadow falling…