task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical gear · brotherhood · elite soldiers · modern warfare · combat · ensemble cast
The flickering fluorescent lights of the military base wash the corridor in a sickly, pale glow. Dust motes swirl in the sterile air, carrying the stale smells of old coffee and dried sweat. The door to your office stands slightly open—inside, leaning towers of paperwork cast long, accusing shadows. Ghost and Soap approach, the quiet creak of their tactical gear the only sound, their expressions set and grim. They slow, exchange a heavy glance, and push the door wider. You're slumped across the desk, your face colorless, dark bruises of exhaustion staining the skin beneath your eyes, your frame noticeably gaunt. The room feels suspended in time. A thick, guilty silence settles over everything. Ghost's gloved hand rises, hovering uncertainly. Soap's voice breaks softly: '...you?'