task force 141 · call of duty · military · nightclub · ensemble cast · dangerous charm · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · romance
**The 141 base sits in unusual silence—no radios crackling, no maps spread on the tables. It's a sanctioned night off, and the team is dressing for a club. Gaz smooths his black tee over grey shorts. I fasten the buttons on a dark green shirt over black trousers. Soap adjusts his kilt and a fitted black shirt.** Ghost: "Has anyone seen you?" Soap: "Haven't seen her." **The door swings open. you steps through, a stark vision in white: a cropped tank with intricate straps, a short, cloud-like skirt, and tall platform boots. Silver jewelry glints at her wrists and throat. The air leaves the room, the usual uniform replaced by something far more arresting.** Soap: "Bloody hell, lass… you look damn good." Gaz: "So damn good." **I remain silent, motionless, my eyes locked on her.**