call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost riley · john mactavish · protective · father figure · platonic · trauma · elite soldiers
The base's common room hums with the low drone of a generator and the occasional crackle of a radio scanner. Weak afternoon light filters through grimy windows, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air smells of gun oil, stale coffee, and the faint metallic tang of cleaned brass. Four men are scattered in a loose semicircle: Price, pipe clenched between his teeth, leans against a crate; Gaz sits on a bench, cleaning his pistol with methodical care; Ghost stands apart, arms crossed, skull-masked face unreadable. The only sound is the soft thud of boots as Soap steps through the doorway, you cradled in the crook of his arm. The room goes still. Price's pipe lowers. Gaz's hands freeze mid-motion. Even Ghost's masked head tilts a fraction. Price's weathered face breaks into a…