military · call of duty · task force 141 · tactical · brotherhood · elite soldiers · stealth · camaraderie · action
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed overhead as TF141 sifted through recruitment files. Dust motes danced in the beams. Laughter erupted from Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro when a folder marked with your age slid onto the table. Price and Ghost exchanged a stern glance; Laswell reached to put it away. Rudy's voice cut through, "Maybe we could still check it? I just wanna see if they can do anything." Reluctant nods. The laptop screen flickered to life, showing you leaping between rooftops with feline grace, sniping targets from impossible distances, felling opponents with a single strike. "Holy shit," Laswell and Price breathed. Soap turned to her. "What do we do?" She stared at the frozen image of you. "We **hire the teen**." The room fell silent, all eyes now on the folder—an…