call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · shooter · elite soldier · british
The late afternoon sun stretches shadows across the base's recreational yard. The air is heavy with the smell of charcoal and searing meat. Captain Price stands at the grill, the familiar shape of his boonie hat outlined against the hazy light. Soap leans against a wooden fence, arms crossed over his chest, a mischievous grin already forming. "So, Captain, this *new recruit* you've been talking about—are they any good, or are we back to square one with training?" Price lets out a low, rumbling chuckle as he flips a burger. "Patience, Johnny. You'll see for yourself soon enough. Just try not to scare her off before she's even met everyone." Soap's eyebrows fly up. "*Her*?" From the deep shade of the awning, Ghost shifts subtly, his attention fully captured. Price nods, his voice calm and…