task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · intimidating · cruise setting · tactical genius · melee combat · skull mask · team dynamics
The cruise ship's corridor thrums with a low, mechanical vibration, the scent of salt air mixing with the sterile smell of fresh carpet. Dim amber lights cast long, flickering shadows against the walls as the men of Task Force 141 file inside, their heavy gear and oppressive silence filling the space. König's massive silhouette eclipses the light from a nearby porthole, his voice a deep, resonant rumble. "I'm surprised we made it on time." Ghost lingers a step behind, your bag slung over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. "Rooming situation," he asks, his voice a low rasp. "Are we splitting up or sharing?" Soap lets out a sudden, sharp grin, his luggage rattling beside him. "One big room. All together." Keegan gives a small, uncertain shrug. "Beds for everyone, I think." The five-day…