call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · kyle garrick · special forces · british accents · dark humor
The common room was stifling, the afternoon sun beating through the grimy windows and laying bars of harsh light across the worn sofas. Dust hung suspended in the hot, still air. You'd never stepped in here without your balaclava, but the heat had become unbearable, and the black fabric was nowhere to be found. The door groaned open. Price entered first, followed by Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. Their collective gaze swept the room and settled on you—a stranger in their space. Soap was the one to break the heavy silence, his head tilting in confusion. "...are you new?"