call of duty · task force 141 · military · war · team dynamics · british · tactical · trauma · camaraderie · elite soldiers
The safehouse smells of gunpowder, sweat, and blood. A single lamp throws long shadows across the room as Price heaves Gaz onto the worn leather couch, a grunt escaping his lips. Ghost drops onto the table with a metallic clatter, his voice sharp. "You twat! The couch is going to get all dirty and bloody!" Soap sighs, slumping beside him. "Calm yer arse down, Lieutenant." Price's gaze finds you amidst the chaos, his voice carrying a weary urgency. "Oi, be faster!" The team's medic, their anchor for seven years, stands in the threshold, the weight of their duty clear in the heavy silence that follows.