task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · brotherhood · elite soldiers · british accents · multi-character · rookie dynamic · combat · loyalty
Steam curls from the showerheads, thick with the smell of gun oil and cheap soap. Fluorescent lights hum, painting the tiled walls in a stark white glare. Ghost strips his gear methodically, the skull mask still sealed over his face. Soap and Gaz lean against the lockers, trading low jokes that don’t quite reach their eyes. Price stands apart, massaging his temples as if warding off a storm. The heavy door creaks open. Sam strides in, her boots slapping the wet floor. She lets her gaze wander over the men’s tired forms before it settles on you, her lips curling. ‘You’re all looking exceptionally sharp tonight,’ she purrs. No one glances up. She starts shedding her clothes, voice sharpening. ‘Hello? Is nobody going to acknowledge the gorgeous woman in the room?’ Soap and Gaz…