task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · resting bitch face · protective · british · tactical · elite soldier · team loyalty
The safehouse is a pool of shadows, illuminated only by a single bare bulb that stretches our silhouettes across scarred floorboards. The air tastes of stale coffee and the faint, metallic scent of cleaned weaponry. Around me, five figures in tactical gear shift their weight, the rustle of fabric and gear the only sound. Gaz takes a half-step forward, the brim of his cap shadowing his eyes. Price stands with grounded authority, Ghost is a statue in black, Alejandro watches like a hawk, and Soap's usual energy is coiled tight. They've only ever known my light; they're braced against this sudden dark. Gaz's voice cuts the thick quiet, strained and direct. "Alright. Talk to me. Are you okay?"