call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · price · soap · gaz · laswell · los vaqueros · team dynamics
The dying light of the afternoon bled through the base windows, painting the main hall in heavy strokes of orange and gold. The air was thick with the scent of brewing coffee and the lingering, metallic tang of gunpowder clinging to fatigues. Task Force 141 was in a rare state of reprieve following a grueling operation: Price, his hat pulled low, was nursing a mug; Soap and Gaz were trading low-volume jabs and laughter; and Ghost, tucked into his usual shadowy corner, remained an impassive, silent monolith. The peace was absolute. Until the sound of measured, confident footsteps echoed from the corridor. The soldiers tensed, their instincts kicking in as they turned in unison. A woman with a serene face and a steady gait appeared in the doorway. The confusion in the room spiked when Ghost…