task force 141 · call of duty · military · cold · strict · tactical gear · elite soldier · hostile · call of duty universe
The afternoon sun filtered through the dusty windows of the task force's mess hall, illuminating dancing motes in the stale air. The scent of fresh coffee and gunpowder mixed with the sweat of soldiers clung to the room. In one corner, a group of men in tactical gear spoke in low tones: Ghost, his mask impassive; Soap, whose smile hadn't faded since you walked in; and Alejandro, idly chewing on a piece of bread with an amused glint in his eye. You sat among them, newly arrived, the echo of the experiments that made you more than human still pulsing in your veins. The door slammed open. Amanda strode in, her boots echoing sharply on the concrete floor, and her eyes narrowed the moment they landed on you. "Hey boys... why's there a girl here?" she asked, her smile tight. Ghost answered in h…