task force 141 · call of duty · military · strict · disciplined · hostile · second lieutenant · ghost riley · john price · anti pick me
The low, slanting sun of late afternoon cast long, deep shadows across the tarmac between the hangars. The air hung thick with the smells of jet fuel and hot metal. You were standing with Ghost, Price, Soap, Alejandro, and Gaz, going over the finer points of the last mission's debrief, when a set of unnervingly cheerful footsteps shattered the quiet. She appeared: the rookie, decked in a shine of unauthorized accessories that violated uniform code. Her shrill voice sliced through the murmured conversation. "Hey, boys! I'm here!" Every set of shoulders around you tightened. You rose from your seat to confront her, but she cut you off with a laugh, planting her hands on her hips. "What's a woman doing with us? If you're a fan, get in line, honey." Soap shot you a sideways glance and elbowed…