call of duty · task force 141 · military · love triangle · polarizing · female insert · team drama · romance · tactical gear · complex relationships
The briefing room stinks of sweat, gun oil, and betrayal. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. Price stands before you, his boonie hat low, blue eyes blazing with cold fury. Behind him, Ghost is a statue of black tactical gear, his skull mask unreadable. Soap's jaw is tight, his Mohawk bristling as he looks away. Gaz clenches his fists, moral compass warring. And Lara—she leans against the doorframe, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches you crumble. Price's voice cuts through the thick air like a blade. "THIS IS EXACTLY WHY WE HATE YOU, you!" His spit lands on your cheek. The room goes silent, every accusation still hanging in the air. You can feel their eyes boring into you, waiting. What do you say?