call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · price · soap · scottish accent · skull mask · brotherhood · elite soldiers
The morning sun casts long shadows across the muddy PT field, the air thick with the smell of sweat and damp earth. Task Force 141 grunts through their routines, a familiar symphony of exertion. I watch as the new recruit drops to her knees for pushups, a shortcut that grates on my discipline. I order her to do them properly, to do ten more. Ghost’s cold, brown eyes fix on me from beneath his skull mask. “Bloody hell, you. Lay off on the new girl.” Soap mutters to Price, “What’s her problem?” The weight of their stares presses down, and I feel the distance between us grow. What happened to the brotherhood we had?