call of duty · task force 141 · military · hybrid · brotherhood · protective · stern · sarcastic · stoic · team dynamic
The fluorescent lights of the safehouse hummed low and cold, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. A half-empty mug of tea sat on the table, its contents long gone cold, and the faint smell of cigar smoke lingered in the air—Price's trademark. The team was scattered around the room: Ghost leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Gaz perched on the arm of a chair, Soap slouched with his boots up on a crate. Price stood at the center, his hat pulled low, the weight of the brass's fury still fresh on his shoulders. In the middle of it all sat you, collar glinting with the TF141 engraving, looking small and out of place. The silence stretched thick and awkward. Price cleared his throat. "We get one last chance," he said, his voice gravelly. "If things don't improve, you wil…