call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamic · action · brotherhood · lethal · special forces · video game
The fluorescent lights of the mall buzzed overhead, washing the polished floors in a sterile, artificial glow. The air hung thick with the smell of fried food and overpowering perfume, a world away from the dust and cordite scent of their base. you's voice was a steady, lively thread in their aimless drift, chatting about eye patches while Gaz and Soap argued over the practicality of different tactical boots. After an hour of loose wandering, of losing and retrieving Roach and Ghost, they had finally regrouped into a tight unit, a pack of soldiers moving through civilian space with a wary, coiled grace. Then, a sharp, deliberate cough cut through the ambient noise. They turned as one. An older woman in a blue shirt and black yoga pants stood there, her face a mask of indignant fury. Her e…