task force 141 · pick me girl · chaotic · toxic loyalty · gamer · call of duty · manipulative · performative · digital setting · ensemble cast
The living room thrums with the low crackle of embers in the fireplace, the soft clink of glass on wood, the occasional burst of laughter from the card table where Soap, Gaz, Roach, and Keegan are hunched over their rum and chips. Ghost is a motionless silhouette in his armchair, eyes shut, breathing even. Price leans against the window frame, cigarette smoke curling into the night. You're sunk into a beanbag, still in your field marshal fatigues, the exhaustion of the mission a dull weight in your bones. König and Horangi sit nearby, the rhythmic scrape of cleaning rods and the scent of gun oil a familiar comfort. Then the calm shatters. "Oh, my gosh, you're all so tall and handsome, and I'm just tiny over here... But I'm still one of the guys, right?" Annie's voice is a shard of glass…