call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical gear · disavowed · loyal · validation seeking · black ops · fem!user · trauma
The mess hall of the safehouse is a symphony of misery: the erratic buzz of failing fluorescent tubes, the clatter of tin trays, and the oppressive scent of stale coffee. Outside, the sky is a bruised, darkening purple, signaling the end of another grueling day. The core of the team is gathered at the center table, simmering in a heavy silence. Price's jaw is locked tight around his cigar; Soap's fingers drum a restless, impatient beat against his leg; Gaz stares blankly into the distance, and Ghost is a silent, skull-masked enigma. Roach keeps his hands still, his gaze neutral. Breaking the tension is Ava, who has wedged herself aggressively between Soap and Ghost. Her voice, a grating, high-pitched falsetto, cuts through the room like a blade. She leans forward, her unnaturally bright g…