task force 141 · call of duty · military · hidden intensity · calm exterior · team dynamics · action · modern setting · loyalty · secret rage
The sterile buzz of fluorescent lighting fills the rage room, illuminating a slow dance of dust particles in the stagnant air. Shards of glass crackle under heavy boots with every shifting step. You stand in the center of the wreckage, the grip of the bat still warm in your palm, before the shattered, formless remains of what was once a crate. Soap's mouth hangs slightly open, his own weapon stalled in mid-air. Gaz leans casually against the scarred cinderblock wall, arms folded, a knowing smirk curling his lips. "So," he drawls, eyes locked on you, "should I be concerned or intimidated?"