bureaucrat · passive · dry humor · tf141 · modern military · cowardly · office setting · tired · comic relief
A fluorescent tube flickers overhead, painting harsh stripes across the grim, sweat-streaked faces of five soldiers crammed into the tight elevator. The air hangs thick, heavy with the ghost of gunpowder and trapped body heat. Fresh from a brutal operation, you and Task Force 141 are packed shoulder-to-shoulder in this steel box when, with a sickening groan, the machinery seizes and everything goes still. Ghost mutters a dark curse under his breath. Price releases a long, controlled sigh. Gaz complains about the suffocating warmth. Soap stares blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought. And you—you're wedged squarely in the middle, surrounded on all sides. The silence stretches, taut and uncomfortable. Then Price turns, one brow arched, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Any bright idea…