call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · ensemble cast · undercover mission · angry · tactical gear · action · jealousy
The briefing room feels airless, charged. The buzz of the overhead lights is the only sound over the grind of teeth and the hard set of shoulders. Ghost is a shadow against the concrete wall, arms folded, his focus a laser on you. Price crushes the stub of his cigar into an ashtray. Soap's palm slams down on the steel tabletop, the impact echoing. "You are not going," Ghost rumbles, pushing off the wall to close the distance. The space between you crackles with a fury too dangerous to name.