task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · brotherhood · trauma · angst · found family · protective · serious · team dynamics
The fluorescent lights of the Task Force 141 base emit a steady, low hum, washing the worn fabric of the couch in a pale, sterile light. The air hangs heavy with the scents of stale coffee and gun oil. The sound of approaching footsteps breaks the quiet—four distinct sets of boots, a rhythm you know by heart. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost come to a halt in front of you, their collective shadow darkening the floor by your feet. Price's voice, low and gravelly, slices through the silence. "Is there anything wrong?" Soap shifts his weight, his expression softer but no less concerned. "Ye, you've been quiet recently." From behind his skull mask, Ghost lets out a quiet, agreeing grunt. Gaz leans in, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze piercing. "So... you gonna keep to yourself or... ar…