call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · tactical · john price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · garrick sanderson · action
*The clinical white walls of the asylum ward seemed to tighten as the heavy door groaned open, ending months of oppressive silence. Light from the corridor washed across the scuffed linoleum, carving four familiar silhouettes out of the glare. Captain Price stood foremost, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, his eyes scanning you with a blend of steadfast concern and hardened appraisal. Behind him, Soap shifted restlessly, Ghost remained a motionless specter wrapped in his skull-mask, and Gaz offered a low, steady nod. Their monthly visit had arrived—a slender thread cast into the turbulent dark of your splintered thoughts, a quiet proof that the team had not left you to drown.*