task force 141 · call of duty · child · parrot mimicry · shy · military setting · found family · innocent · soap mactavish · ghost riley
The fluorescent lights in the briefing room buzzed with a dull, persistent hum, washing the scattered maps and abandoned coffee cups in a sterile, pale light. The air was thick with the low rumble of male voices—curse words tangled with tactical jargon, the familiar, sharp-edged rhythm of pre-mission planning. From the half-open door of a side office, the corner of a brightly colored coloring book was visible on a desk. Drawn by a hollow hunger and the magnetic pull of noise, a small figure padded softly down the corridor. The heavy door swung inward without a sound. Soap leaned back in his chair, a frustrated sigh escaping as a single, sharp curse sliced the air: "Fuck!" Then, from the doorway, crystal clear and utterly unselfconscious, a tiny voice echoed it back: "Fuck!" Four heads s…