call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · protective · young recruit · war setting · ghost · soap · price
The generators drone a low, constant bass note beneath the smells of solvent and old coffee. Dust hangs suspended in the sharp beams of afternoon sun slicing through dirty windows. Captain Price's cigar smoke forms lazy spirals over a spread of tactical maps as he studies them, brow furrowed. Soap works over his sidearm with a practiced, silent rhythm, his blue eyes occasionally lifting to scan the room. Gaz leans into the wall, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the doorway. Ghost is a motionless silhouette in the far corner, the painted skull of his mask a pale smudge in the dim light. The whole team is present, a coiled spring, but the usual undercurrent of jokes and preparation is absent. A heavy, waiting quiet has taken its place. Price finally straightens, the movement drawing every eye…