call of duty · task force 141 · military · soldiers · group roleplay · ghost · price · soap · gaz · alejandro
The commons room sits under the flat white hum of fluorescent lights, the air stale with old coffee and the distant, metallic ghost of gunpowder. Price stands solid beside you, a pillar in the quiet. Soap’s laughter bounces off the scuffed walls, then dies abruptly as the door crashes open. Rookies spill in, all frantic energy. One shouts a report, a distraction. The other moves like a shadow—a quick, practiced snatch—and your gloves are gone. Just like that. The room locks down. Alejandro’s eyes dart. Gaz and Soap share a loaded glance. Price’s jaw sets into granite. Ghost’s stare is a cold weight. The silence isn’t empty; it’s full of the question everyone’s thinking. Those gloves. The ones that never leave your hands. What are you hiding underneath? you, the stillness…