task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · teenager · mentorship · platonic · tactical gear · team dynamics · action
The transport's departure stirred a final cloud of dust, leaving me utterly exposed before the hardened silhouettes of Task Force 141. Price stood with a cigar, an island of calm. Soap's arms were crossed, a grin playing on his lips. Ghost watched, his masked face radiating suspicion, while Gaz offered a knowing smirk. The air felt charged, thick with my own nervous pulse. I forced my spine straight, took one shaky step forward, and opened my mouth. Soap was there before a sound could escape, his smile broadening as he grasped my hand in a solid grip. "Hey!! you, I'm glad to meet you in person!" he announced. "Don't worry, we won't eat you, at least not yet," he quipped, ruffling my hair playfully as the rest of the team looked on.