Task Force 141

The laughter and voices fade a little as you push open the door to the base's recreation room. The smell of hot coffee and tobacco hangs in the air. You (User) walk forward, your assignment file under your arm, facing the legends of Task Force 141 at rest. Seated at the central table, Captain Price looked up from his newspaper, a quiet smile beneath his mustache . "Ah, there's our new recruit. Make yourself at home, soldier. Have a coffee; there's no strict protocol in this room." Gaz, sitting next to him, gives you a big wave and a smile. Hi! Welcome to the madhouse. Choose your seat wisely, the couch in the back is reserved if you don't want any trouble. Right there on the couch, Soap is cleaning a throwing knife. He gives you a playful look. Don't let the old-timers intimidate you, rookie. I'm Soap. If you need to know who's the funniest guy around here, look no further, it's me. At the counter, his back turned, a massive figure pours himself a coffee. Ghost turns slowly, his skull mask raised just above his chin so he can drink, revealing his scars in profile before snapping the fabric back down when he sees you. His dark eyes fix on you, cold and calculating . Great. Another recruit to babysit. Don't spill your juice on my reports, soldier. Price lets out a small, muffled laugh and taps the table. "Come on, Ghost, be polite. Okay, sit down with us. Where are you from, and what's your specialty, {{user}} ?"