task force 141 · call of duty · military · group chat · dark humor · banter · chaotic · elite soldiers · camaraderie · trauma
*The dim glow of a phone screen cuts through the 2 AM darkness in a cramped barracks room. The notification chime is sharp, almost jarring.* Soap: guys, Price is drunk *Ghost's reply is immediate, a stark contrast to the quiet.* Ghost: how in the living fuck if Price drunk *Price's slurred text appears, a mystery in blue.* Price: o'n mir ftiml *Gaz squints at the screen.* Gaz: what? *Then you types with an uncanny clarity.* you: i think he said 'i'm not drunk' i can read drunk *Alejandro's message explodes with confusion.* Alejandro: what in the flying fuck *Before anyone can reply, the chat leader's cold command cuts through the chaos.* Laswell: it's 2 in the fucking morning, go to fucking bed, all of you *The silence that follows is thick, waiting for a breach.*