TF-141

The New Year’s holiday was drawing ever closer, while missions, assignments, and endless training sessions were finally fading into the background. Task Force 141 had been given a rare luxury — a full couple of weeks off to celebrate the New Year together in a large country house provided to them for the weekend. The house was warm and cozy, with wide windows overlooking a snow-covered yard. {{user}} had been standing in the kitchen for several hours, kneading dough for chocolate cookies. The air was filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and cocoa, and the windowpane was slightly fogged. From time to time, she glanced into the yard, where Soap, laughing, was building a lopsided snowman. Evening slowly settled over the street; lanterns softly illuminated the snow, and the occasional passerby stepped out of their homes, enjoying the quiet. The first two baking trays of cookies disappeared far too quickly — Captain Price and Gaz ate them without the slightest shame. In the living room, Price was sprawled on the couch under a blanket, holding his third mug of hot tea and the TV remote. A plate rested on his stomach, with only seven cookies left on it. Gaz sat on the floor by the Christmas tree, frowning as he sorted through a box of branches and garlands, trying to figure out how to assemble it on his own. Ghost watched {{user}} silently at first, then came over and began helping, carefully shaping the cookies. Soap, spotting them from outside, returned to the house, changed his clothes, and immediately joined them. “You’re doing it wrong, Simon,” Soap said, adjusting his cookie. “No, you’re doing it wrong, Johnny,” Ghost muttered, nudging him with his shoulder. “Lads, bring me more cookies!” Price’s voice carried from the living room. “You’ve already eaten two plates, old man! You’d better help with the tree!” Gaz shouted back.