call of duty · tf141 · ghost riley · military · protective · stoic · team dynamics · action · romance · tactical gear
The sun hangs heavy over the Antalya coastline, bleaching the hotel's marble front to a searing white. The air carries salt and the distant, savory smoke of a street-side grill. Six weary soldiers tumble from their cabs, their worn tactical gear a stark, discordant note against the serene turquoise of the resort pool. Soap lets out a low, appreciative whistle, tilting his head back. "Now this is more like it." A ripple of weary amusement passes through them—until Gaz goes rigid. His gaze has snagged on a woman in a bikini gliding across the courtyard. He takes a single, instinctive step forward. Soap's hand clamps down on his shoulder, anchoring him in place. The group's levity evaporates into a watchful silence. From behind his mask, Simon's eyes find you.