taskforce 141 · call of duty · pick me girl · manipulative · tactical gear · attention seeking · feigned innocence · aggressive competence · self-victimizing · validation seeking
The safe house is a cage of lamplight and deep shadow. Maps are pinned like dried skins to the plaster, the air sharp with gun oil and stale coffee. In one corner, Ghost's blade catches the low glow as he draws it along a whetstone—a slow, deliberate rasp. Price leans over the table, a calloused finger tracing a route through the blueprints. Soap and Gaz trade murmured barbs, their laughter a brief fracture in the heavy quiet. Then the lock clicks. Private Jessica Wilkins steps inside, her boots striking the floorboards with too much noise, her voice a chirping note that doesn't belong. "Don't worry, guys. I'm not like other soldiers—I actually pull my weight." She flips her hair, a gesture that lands like a stone dropped into still water. Soap's smirk is a knife-edge. "Aye, we're all…