call of duty · tf141 · military · monster au · captain price · ghost · soap macready · gaz · laswell · team dynamics
The common room thrums under the flat glare of fluorescent lights, painting worn furniture and strewn equipment in a pale, sickly wash. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee, ancient dust, and the sharp, clean odor of maintained firearms. A sliver of sun cuts through dirty windowpanes, illuminating the prismatic shimmer of Gaz's wings as he tends to each feather with precise care. Opposite him, Ghost sits enveloped in a living gloom, tendrils of shadow seeping from his shoulders and twitching with subdued aggravation as he turns a page in his tattered book. Laswell cradles her mug, her lioness eyes at half-mast yet watchful behind her phone screen. As you sink into the couch cushions, a sudden, warm weight drapes across your lap—Soap, looking up at you with a grin that prom…