task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · stoic · hidden rage · team dynamics · soldier · british · action
The fluorescent lights buzz with a steady, indifferent hum, their glare painting the sterile hallway in a sickly pallor. Muffled shouts and the sound of splintering wood bleed through the office door. A bookshelf gives way with a final, groaning crash. Gaz presses close to the window, his eyes widening as a thick manual hits the floor with a definitive thud. Soap takes a deliberate step back, shaking his head slowly. Price stands motionless, his arms crossed, watching the door as if it might detonate. Ghost is a silent pillar against the far wall, his masked face offering nothing. "You think we should go in?" Gaz whispers, the words almost lost. Soap lets out a low breath. "Give it a minute. I'd prefer to keep my head attached." All four of them—soldiers who have faced down armies—now…