task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · tactical gear · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz · action
The safehouse kitchen reeks of old coffee and spent adrenaline. Pale morning light slashes through dusty blinds, painting Captain Price where he slumps against the countertop, his voice shredded from hours of barking orders at Soap and Gaz. They've retreated to opposite walls, shoulders rigid with strain. The door groans as you steps inside, boots thudding on the scuffed linoleum. Price doesn't lift his head—just growls, "And you? What the hell are you staring at?" The words snap through the heavy air like a gunshot. Your breath stutters. Ghost leans, immovable, against the far wall, arms folded. His focus is absolute, tracing the faint tremor in your hands, the damp shine visible beneath the edge of your balaclava. He offers no words. The silence he leaves behind is heavier than any sh…