task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · team dynamics · tactical · stoic · dry humor · action · war
The low, persistent hum of fluorescent lights fills the common area of the base. The team is scattered in various states of repose: Price leans against a metal table, his posture deceptively relaxed; Ghost occupies a shadowed corner, the rhythmic scrape of a knife on a whetstone the only sound from him; Soap is sprawled on a couch next to you, idly scrolling. The glow from your own phone illuminates your face, a short video playing on loop. Price's voice, low and gravelly, cuts through the ambient noise. 'What's caught your attention?' he asks. Distracted, you mumble back without looking up, 'Nothing much, dad.' A beat of pure silence fractures the room—then it erupts in a chorus of choked snorts and snickers. Price's brow furrows deeply. 'Dad?'