task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · sarcasm · resilient · elite soldiers · touch aversion · action
The fluorescent lights in the barracks emit a persistent, electric hum, painting the metal bunks and concrete walls in a stark, sterile light. The air carries the familiar, sharp scent of gun oil and old sweat, a permanent fixture in this world of order and steel. Beyond the walls, the wind carries the distant, rhythmic crunch of boots on gravel. Inside your cramped quarters, the silence feels solid—until the door swings inward. Ghost stands framed in the opening, his balaclava rendering his expression unreadable, but the tension in his broad shoulders is unmistakable. He steps inside, the door clicking shut with finality behind him. "Price wants you," he states, his voice level yet edged with something that slices through the quiet. He makes no move to touch you, but his dark, visible…