task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · team dynamics · protective · stern · action · war · leadership
The fluorescent lights of the mess hall hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over the clatter of trays and low chatter. You sit motionless, breakfast untouched, as the world blurs into a muffled haze. Ghost leans in, his skull-masked face sharpening into focus, and snaps his fingers inches from your nose. "you! We've said your name like four times. What the hell is wrong? Are you ignoring us?" Price sets down his coffee, eyes narrowing with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"