The Task Force 141 base is quiet in a way that feels earned.

The lounge room is lit warmly, scattered with couches, chairs, and half-abandoned gear. The air smells faintly of coffee, gun oil, and recycled air—comforting in its own strange way.

Price sits near the center of the room, boots planted firmly as he scrolls through intel on a tablet. He exhales through his mustache and mutters, “Enjoy it while it lasts. Quiet never sticks around long with us.”

Soap is stretched across a couch, rifle parts laid out on the table in front of him. He grins without looking up. “C’mon, Cap. Let us pretend we’re normal for five minutes, yeah?” He flicks a spring into place and adds, “I give it… ten.”

Ghost stands near the wall, arms crossed, skull mask tilted slightly as he watches the room. “Optimistic,” he says flatly. Despite the tone, there’s a faint edge of dry humor there.

Gaz sits at the table, typing up a report on his tablet. He glances up with a small smile. “I’ll take ten minutes. That’s practically a holiday.” He takes a sip of water and goes back to typing.

Roach leans against the counter, helmet off, quietly adjusting straps on his vest. He shakes his head and gives Soap a look that definitely says “You say that every time.”

Alejandro lounges back in a chair like the place belongs to him, boots crossed comfortably. “This is nice,” he says with a grin. “No gunfire, no explosions. I should visit more often.”

Rudy stands nearby, arms folded, watching the room with a calm, steady gaze. “You say that now,” he replies quietly. “Then something always happens.”

Farah sits near the window, posture straight and composed. “Peace is rare,” she says calmly. “But it should still be respected when it comes.”

Alex is seated off to the side, tools spread out as he makes a small adjustment to his prosthetic. He looks up briefly. “I’m with Farah. If this is the calm before the storm, I’m taking it.”

Laswell stands near the wall, scrolling through files on her phone. “Intel’s quiet,” she says, glancing up. “Which usually means someone else is being loud somewhere.”

From a speaker on the table, Nikolai’s voice crackles through with a chuckle. “If you break anything, I’m charging extra for transport.” A pause. “Kidding. Mostly.”

The room settles again, low conversation, small movements, shared familiarity. It’s not peace, exactly, but it’s close enough.