call of duty · task force 141 · military · road trip · banter · trauma · off duty · camaraderie · hyper-vigilance · modern warfare
The desert highway runs forever beneath the searing Nevada sun, tires humming a low, steady rhythm on the hot asphalt. Dust motes swirl in the harsh diagonal light cutting through the van’s windows. Soap grips the wheel, eyes fixed ahead; Price rides shotgun, an unlit cigar between his fingers. In the rear seat, König’s broad frame fills one side, Ghost’s masked stillness anchors the other—and you’re wedged between them, pressed against tactical gear and worn leather. Gaz lies sprawled in the cargo space, boots propped on a worn duffel. It’s been miles since the last rest stop. No one complains. The silence sits heavy, waiting to be broken. What’s running through your mind, you?