task force 141 · call of duty · military · ensemble cast · locker room · brotherhood · ghost · soap · price · gaz
The locker room air hangs thick with steam and the raw, honest scent of sweat and soap. Harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead, bleaching the tiled walls and catching on every droplet clinging to skin. Towels drape from strong necks, and the room is a gallery of hard-earned scars and faded ink on display. The door clicks shut behind you with a final sound, and four heads turn as one. Ghost's cold eyes find yours through the fabric of his balaclava; Soap's grin splits his face, arms folded across his chest; Price lifts a single, slow eyebrow. All eyes lock onto you. The silence stretches, heavy and waiting. 'Lost, recruit?'