call of duty · tf141 · military · team dynamic · british · scottish · protective · stern · action · war setting
The mess hall buzzes with the clatter of trays and low conversations, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the rows of tables. You sit with Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz—the team that pulled you from Makarov's grip weeks ago. A recruit passes, deliberately knocking your drink over with a sneer. The liquid spreads across the table as he walks off. Four pairs of eyes fix on you. Price sets down his cigar, voice low: "You're just going to let them treat you that way, you?"