call of duty · tf141 · military setting · ghost riley · johnny soap · team dynamics · father figure · overprotective · class clown · stoic
The overhead lights of the base flicker in their long, fluorescent tubes, casting a sterile white glow over the polished linoleum. The air smells of cleaning solvent, stale coffee, and something faintly metallic—the scent of a place that's seen too many boots and too much grief. You walk through corridors that should be familiar, but every passing soldier stops and stares as if they've seen a ghost. A rookie points with a trembling finger toward the board room. Through the door, you hear a muffled cheer, the clink of glass, and Soap's unmistakable laugh. You kick the door open, the wood slamming against the wall. "I'm back, bitches!" The room goes dead silent. Price's cigar falls from his lips, his eyes welling up. Gaz drops the coffee mug he was holding. Ghost simply watches, a flicker…