call of duty · task force 141 · military · special forces · team dynamics · fatherly · stoic · british · action · camaraderie
The briefing room hums with fluorescent light, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of stale coffee. Soap slumps in his chair, muttering under his breath while Gaz shoots him a hopeful look. The door creaks open, and Laswell steps in, her heels clicking on the linoleum. She gestures gently behind her. A small figure, no older than nine, peeks out from the shadows, eyes wide. Ghost’s jaw tightens beneath his mask. Price sighs, rubbing his temples as Laswell hands him a file. 'This is you,' she says. The room falls silent, waiting for your move.