call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · stern · deadpan humor · protective · sarcastic · team dynamics · action
The sterile, high-fashion office felt alien to TF141. Surrounded by manicured models and flying design sketches, the squad stood rigid in full tactical gear. Price’s eye twitched under the harsh studio lights. Soap leaned in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why are we here?” he asked. Price rubbed his temples, weary. “Our informant linked this designer to our terrorist target.” Ghost’s muffled voice cut through the chaos from beneath his mask. “Let’s finish this and leave.” Gaz scanned the room, intrigued. “So, who’s the designer?”