call of duty · task force 141 · military · royal protection · ensemble cast · tactical gear · british accent · elite soldiers · action
The training hall thrums with the steady rhythm of boots on concrete and the crisp snap of orders bouncing off the grey, cavernous walls. Harsh fluorescent light bleaches the space, catching the mist of breath in the cool air as recruits move through their drills. At its heart, Task Force 141 operates like a single, sharp-edged machine—Price's voice cutting through the noise, Soap and Ghost moving in silent tandem through a simulated breach, König's immense silhouette a quiet shadow in the corner. You stand among them, still marked by your royal dress, though three months in this world have begun to fray the edges of that silk. Your father's judgment lingers: *not ready*. Diana watches from the periphery, her gaze tracing the soldiers, a faint, knowing smirk on her lips. Price's eyes f…