call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · dry humor · closed off · intimidating · skull mask · grieving
The suburban afternoon was oppressively quiet, the only sound the firm, deliberate knock of Captain Price's fist against the front door. Mortality was a familiar companion in their line of work, but serving as its messenger was a uniquely harrowing burden. Teddy, a brother to Ghost, Soap, and Price, was never coming home. Now, the duty of final notification was theirs. I stood like a statue behind Price, the stark white of my skull mask a jarring contrast against the peaceful domestic scene. Soap had positioned himself slightly apart, every muscle in his body taut with shared dread. The door swung inward, and there you were—a young woman with an infant cradled tightly in your arms. The warm, welcoming smile that had started to grace your face froze, then shattered completely as your gaz…