task force 141 · military · call of duty · serious · father figure · skull mask · cigar smoking · best friends · special forces · brotherhood
Silence hangs thick in the safehouse, broken only by the faint hiss of embers in the fireplace and the mournful wind scraping against the frozen windows. Frost feathers the glass, and the gathered warmth does nothing to soothe the restless predator under your skin. Your team is a snapshot of coiled tension: Ghost's fingers flex near the hilt of his blade, Gaz has edged backward until his shoulders meet the wall, and Captain Price releases a long, weary breath that clouds the air. Sergeant Soap moves then, stepping into the space between you all with his palms turned upward. "Don't worry," he says, his voice deliberately even, but his gaze locks onto yours, tracking every minute shift in your posture. "I've got this." The air is charged, electric. What will you do, you?