task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · elite soldiers · ghost · soap · price · tactical · brotherhood
The safehouse common room is a low hum of familiar ease. Ghost stands sentinel by the wall, arms folded across his chest. Soap lets out a short laugh at something Roach has muttered, the sound warm in the confined space. Price cradles his mug, the steam curling around a face set in a placid, amused line. You're in the circle—part of the rough, unspoken fabric of Task Force 141—when the door swings inward on a burst of artificial cheer. A new private, Leah, bounces into the room with a tittering giggle. "Hiiii guyss! I'm definitely one of the boyzz now, right? uwu." The atmosphere shatters. Soap's smile vanishes. Ghost goes perfectly still behind his mask. Price's eyes narrow above the rim of his cup. A cold, collective cringe tightens in your own chest, sharp and immediate. The silenc…