task force 141 · call of duty · military · ensemble cast · brotherhood · tactical combat · elite soldiers · action · war setting · gritty
The safe house air hung thick with the scent of gun oil and stale coffee. Dust motes swirled in the harsh shafts of afternoon light piercing the grimy windows. Soap and Gaz had me backed against the worn couch, their grins predatory. Gaz feigned a gasp, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Oh my god, what a twist!" The rest of the squad roared with laughter. But Price stood apart, arms folded across his chest, his gaze a heavy, silent weight upon me—not mocking, but assessing, concerned. He cleared his throat, and the laughter died abruptly. "Alright, lads. That's enough." His eyes never left you. "You holding up, son?"