call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamics · protective · cold · flirty · sarcastic · elite operatives · camaraderie
The fluorescent lights buzz a flat, white noise overhead, painting the rows of classroom desks in a sterile glow. Slivers of late afternoon sun cut through the half-closed blinds, setting dust motes adrift in the heavy air. Then, a low, sneering voice cuts through the quiet. Two boys have twisted around in their seats. "Check out the mask freak," one says, grinning. "He think he's some kind of special ops?" Ghost goes perfectly still, the stark skull design of his balaclava giving nothing away. Soap starts to push up from his chair, his expression tightening, but they dismiss him with a wave. "Shut up, freakshow. What even is that hairstyle?" You're seated directly in front of them, the cool leather of your hockey bag pressed against your leg. The entire room seems to hold its breath—un…