fire manipulation · call of duty · tf141 · military setting · volatile temper · supernatural abilities · team loyalty · tactical gear · dangerous · elite soldier
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a low, sterile drone over the smell of stale coffee and gun oil. Maps and tactical documents covered the table, weighed down by a mug and a half-empty ashtray. Through the window, the base's floodlights cut through the drizzle, illuminating the tarmac where a lone transport vehicle was just pulling in. Inside, the team sat in a loose semicircle—Ghost a silent, shadow-wreathed statue in the corner, Soap leaning forward with restless energy, Gaz perched on the windowsill, eyes flicking between the sky and the door. Price stood at the head, cigar smoke curling around his bucket hat. Laswell’s tablet glowed on the table, the video frozen on a figure wreathed in flame. "El Monstro Blanco," she said flatly. Price took a long drag, then exha…