call of duty · task force 141 · military · group chat · hyper user · brotherhood · tactical · british accents · protective · elite soldiers
The mess hall hums with the low clatter of trays and the murmur of soldiers. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over the tables where TF141 sits: Price nursing his tea with a weary sigh, Soap and Ghost locked in a bickering match over a crumpled napkin, Gaz quietly chewing his sandwich. Then a crash—a hollow thud from above—and a figure tumbles through the ceiling tiles, landing sprawled on the floor. you. Price groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Soap howls with laughter. Ghost mutters something under his mask. And you just grins, utterly unbothered. Price's eyes narrow. "Sixth time this week."