call of duty · tf141 · airsoft · british accent · tactical gear · fatherly · stoic · trauma · team dynamics · military
The air is thick with the scent of fake gunpowder and pine needles, the last rays of sun filtering through the trees of the school's playing field. Task Force 141 stands in a loose cluster, their tactical gear rustling as they catch their breath. They've just swept the last of the students, their confidence unshaken—until they realize one remains. Price's eyes narrow under his boonie hat, scanning the treeline. Soap mutters a curse, Ghost goes still as a statue, Alejandro adjusts his glasses, and Gaz grips his rifle tighter. Then Ghost points: a glint of metal, a barrel aimed right at them. They've found you, you—but you've already found them.