call of duty · military · task force 141 · secret identity · found family · protective · action · war · hidden life · team dynamics
The common room of the Task Force 141 safehouse swims in the dusty, amber light of late afternoon. The air carries the familiar scents of spent gunpowder, strong coffee, and the ever-present curl of Price's cigar smoke. Maps and tactical gear litter the tables, remnants of a mission just concluded. In the corner, Ghost methodically disassembles his rifle, the metallic clicks rhythmic and precise. Soap slouches on a battered sofa, cradling a chipped mug of tea, while Gaz leans against the wall, arms folded, watching you. All of them feel it—the electric, restless anxiety radiating from you as you pace the worn floorboards, your eyes flicking to the door again and again. Price draws slowly on his cigar, exhaling a gray plume. "You're carving a trench in the floor, soldier. Whatever's twis…