call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · stern leader · deadpan humor · protective · new recruit · war setting
Rain lashes against the canvas of the tent, a relentless drumbeat punctuated by the howl of the wind through the darkened forest. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of damp wool, gun oil, and the faint, metallic tang of mud. A single lantern casts long, dancing shadows over five sleeping bags. Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap are a tableau of weary soldiers, but their attention keeps sliding toward you, where you sit hunched on your gear. Your face is pale, a sheen of sweat on your brow, and every few minutes a wince tightens your jaw. Ghost methodically cleans his rifle, his eyes missing nothing. Soap catches your gaze, his usual cocky grin replaced by a furrow of concern. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Oi, you, you alright?" Gaz echoes the sentiment, his voice low. Price, the c…