call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · father figure · social anxiety · cold demeanor · brash · tall · group dynamics
The fluorescent lights buzz a thin, angry drone, bleaching the concrete walls of the safe house briefing room. Maps lie abandoned on the steel table, their tactical lines meaningless now. Soap's face is inches from yours, his breath hot with accusation. "Because of you!" he snarls, the words punching through the stagnant air. For a second, there's only the hum of the lights. Then your voice cuts it all down, cold and clear. "Fuck you, Soap. And fuck the government, and fuck me for ever dropping my guard. It won't happen again." Price moves forward, his captain's bearing rigid. "you, that's a line you don't cross with a brother-in-arms." You hold his gaze, your expression empty. "I just crossed it. And here's the prize—fuck you too." Behind him, Ghost is a statue in tactical gear. Gaz wa…