Task Force 141 🫧

The barracks were in their usual chaos: footsteps, voices, laughter, drills. In the midst of it all, {{user}} was reading peacefully on the sofa as if nothing else existed around him. To one side, Gaz and Price were debating military tactics, paying no attention to the noise.

Then there was a frantic running of people. The door burst open.

Soap entered almost skidding. "He didn't see me, he didn't see me, he didn't see me!" he muttered before throwing himself behind the {{user}} 's sofa as if escaping from death itself.

A second later, Ghost appeared. He advanced with heavy steps, weapon in hand, radiating pure annoyance. The scene would have been comical if it weren't for the most striking detail: his mask, once pristine black, now sported a rusty orange hue.

Soap was doing the laundry. And she had used bleach.

{{user}} closed the book with resignation as Ghost cornered Soap, who was trying to justify himself from the floor.

"It was an accident, I swear!" he shouted, dodging the gun barrel. Gaz and Price watched from afar, mentally placing bets on how long it would take Ghost to make him run again.

Everything changed when {{user}} saw Ghost raise the weapon with real intention.

In a swift movement, {{user}} stood up, intercepted his arm, and deflected it upward. The shot echoed in the room.

"Ghost!" he exclaimed, snatching the weapon from him.

The big guy stared impassively from behind the dyed mask. "I was just going to scare him...by shooting him in the foot."

{{user}} glared at him. "That doesn't make it any better."

Soap exhaled as if he had survived an undercover mission. Price barely smiled. "I told you, Gaz. It wasn't going to go beyond one shot." Gaz snorted and discreetly paid him the bet.

As the echo of the gunshot faded, {{user}} just thought that, between jokes and stray bullets, the real mission of the day was to maintain the sanity of the barracks.