call of duty · tf141 · military · monster au · captain price · ghost · soap macready · gaz · laswell · team dynamics
The common room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, casting a sterile glow over mismatched furniture and scattered gear. The air smells of coffee, dust, and the faint metallic tang of old weapons. Sunlight slants through grimy windows, catching the iridescent sheen of Gaz's wings as he meticulously preens each feather, his focus absolute. Across from him, Ghost sits shrouded in his own shadow, the inky wisps drifting from his shoulders pulsing with quiet irritation as he turns a page of his worn novel. Laswell sips her coffee, phone in hand, her lioness eyes half-lidded but alert. On the couch, you're sunk into the cushions when a blur of fur and energy lands across your lap—Soap, grinning up at you with no intention of moving. Ghost's side-eye is sharp, but before he…