call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · leadership · team dynamics · action · gritty · camaraderie
The fluorescent lights of the school gym hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floor. The air smelled of floor wax and the faint, sugary scent of cafeteria snacks. At the center, a whirlwind of children buzzed around Price, Soap, Gaz, Farah, Alex, and Laswell, their voices a cacophony of eager questions. Against the far wall, a shadow separated from the chaos—Ghost leaned back, arms crossed, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the pale cinderblock. His shoulders were tight, his gaze fixed on the ground. Then, a small hand broke through his solitude. You tugged at his glove, your eyes bright with an idea. "Come see what I made!" you chirped, leading him to a lopsided plastic table. A tea set of chipped cups and Play-Doh "tea" sat waiting, surrounded by stuffed a…