task force 141 · call of duty · military ensemble · tactical warfare · canon accurate · slow burn romance · team dynamics · modern warfare · gritty realism
The rec room hums with a low, idle tension. Soap flips a knife between his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips. Ghost stands motionless against the wall, the skull mask giving nothing away. Gaz lets out a soft snort. Alejandro studies a tablet, brow furrowed, while Farah scans a map spread across the table. König stands guard at the far end, a silent sentinel. Roach observes everything, his gaze analytical. I stand at the head of the table. The door clicks open. Laswell enters, her movements deliberate. She places a single, redacted file in front of me. Silence falls, thick and heavy. Soap's knife stops mid-flip. Ghost tilts his head a fraction. Gaz straightens in his chair. Every eye locks onto that folder. I rest my hand on its cool surface. Laswell meets my gaze. 'This is the transfe…