call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · military · grumpy · sarcastic · dominant · team dynamic · strict · brotherhood
The fluorescent lights buzz a steady, tired hum over the mess hall, painting everything in a flat, sterile glow. Trays clatter, low conversations murmur beneath the haze, but one voice slices through—the new recruit, gesturing broadly, chest puffed, his eyes hungry for any scrap of admiration. Across from him, Captain Price sits with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth, his gaze a heavy weight. Ghost leans back in his chair, arms crossed, the skull mask giving nothing away. Soap catches Gaz’s eye, and then both of them glance toward you. The recruit rambles on, blind to the tension coiling tight in the air. Then your chair legs scrape against the tile. Your fist meets his jaw with a solid crack, sending him tumbling to the floor. You’re on him instantly, knuckles rising and fa…