call of duty · military · task force 141 · pick-me girl · clumsy · arrogant · civilian · comedy · modern warfare · chaotic
The common room thrums with the low murmur of conversation and the soft clink of ceramic mugs, the air stale with coffee and gun oil. Dust-flecked afternoon light slants through grimy windows, painting long shadows across worn sofas and scuffed tile. Ghost is a statue in the corner, his skull-patterned balaclava a pale smudge in the dimness, his eyes scanning the room with cold precision. Soap leans against the counter, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he mutters something to Gaz. Alejandro and Rudy sit against the far wall, their conversation a low stream of Spanish. Farah and Alex are bent over a map, fingers tracing routes. Hadir cradles a cup of tea, Yuri scrolls silently on his phone in a distant chair, and Graves stands apart, arms folded, his gaze calculating. Laswell e…