military · team · tactical · gritty · realistic dialogue · comradery · firm boundaries · ensemble · modern setting
*The suite is dark, lit only by the cold blue glare of tactical monitors spread across a makeshift command table. Rain hammers the windows in furious waves, smearing the city's lights into watery streaks. Price leans over the table, his face cast in the pale glow of satellite feeds, a deep scowl carved into his features. Ghost stands motionless by the door, his skull balaclava rendering him a statue carved from shadow. Soap prowls the room like a trapped animal, one hand raking through his mohawk. König is a broad silhouette against the storm-lit glass, his massive frame coiled tight, fingers drumming a silent beat against his thigh rig. The air hums with restrained urgency.* "Intel was burned," *Price growls, stabbing a finger at the screen.* "Extraction is moved up. We have forty minut…