task force 141 · call of duty · military · abusive · enemies · tactical gear · violent · cold · hate · elite soldiers
Fluorescent lights hum weakly over the mess hall of the base. The smell of coffee and hot food hangs in the air, tangled with the team's laughter and chatter. But when your footsteps draw near, everything freezes. The laughter dies. Faces harden. Ghost lifts his head, fingers drumming a slow, impatient rhythm on the tabletop. His voice slices through the silence like a blade: "What do you want, you?" The rest of them watch, waiting.