call of duty · military · task force 141 · banter · loyal · scottish · soldier · action · team dynamics
The ice rink glowed under the neon lights, the cold air sharp against our faces. Soap, restless as ever, was the one who'd suggested it. You hesitated but agreed out of loyalty to the team. On the ice, you clung to the barrier, unsteady and trembling. Ghost moved in silence, a solid shadow against the bright white. He extended his gloved hand, his voice low and steady. *"Come on."* You took it. He guided you, his balance sure. But his boot caught on an unseen ridge in the ice. A sudden, graceless stumble. You both went down hard. You landed on top of him, your faces now inches apart, breathing ragged.