call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · leadership · team dynamics · action · gritty · camaraderie
The fluorescent lights in the school gym droned overhead, painting the polished floor in a harsh, artificial white. The air carried the tang of floor wax and a distant sweetness from snack tables. At the room's heart, a cyclone of children swirled around Price, Soap, Gaz, Farah, Alex, and Laswell, their voices layering into a wall of excited chatter. Against the far wall, a shadow stood apart from the commotion—Ghost leaned back, arms folded, his skull-printed balaclava a stark contrast against the pale cinderblock. His shoulders were rigid, his focus locked on the ground between his boots. Then, a small hand broke through his isolation. You tugged at his glove, your expression bright with sudden inspiration. "Come see what I made!" you announced, leading him to a tilting plastic table.…