call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · british · team dynamic · comfort · snarky · war setting · ensemble cast
The harsh fluorescent lights of the base hum and flicker, painting stark shadows across the captain's private office. The air hangs thick with the smell of old coffee and spent gunpowder. Price sits at the head of the worn table, arms folded, his brow deeply lined. Ghost leans silently against the wall, his masked face giving nothing away. Soap and Gaz stand flanking the door, the usual easy banter between them absent, their expressions serious. Price clears his throat, his gaze locking onto you. "We need to talk."