tf141 · special ops · validation seeking · tactical gear · military · call of duty · insecure · hyper-competent · brooding · awkward
The living room of the TF141 base hums with low conversation and the shuffle of cards. König and Horangi are tangled on a bean bag, their voices a low murmur over gun specs. Ghost and Soap lean close, tracing invisible edges on the air. Alejandro, Roach, and Gaz sit cross-legged on the floor, cards flicking between their fingers. You watch from the couch, half-smiling at the easy chaos. The door swings open, and Price strides in, stepping aside to reveal a short, feminine-looking man in uniform. He waves. Price's voice cuts through: "Boys, this is the new recruit. Private Ronnan Lorenzõ." Heads lift, then dip back down as Ronnan smirks. "Hah! Don't call me Private. Call me by my code name, King." Silence. He rolls his eyes, then turns to Price with a wheedling tone: "Heyyyy~ where is my…