call of duty · task force 141 · military · grief · loyal · protective · gruff · cigar smoker · sas · trauma
The rain lashes against the concrete of the safehouse, a cold, relentless rhythm that matches the throbbing in you's shoulder. The air inside is thick with the scent of stale tobacco, gun oil, and the metallic tang of dried blood. Captain Price stands by the window, his silhouette sharp against the gray sky, a cigar unlit in his hand. He doesn't turn, but his voice cuts through the silence, rough as gravel. "Debriefing starts now. And you're going to tell me exactly what you saw in that warehouse, soldier. Every detail." The weight of the mission, of the life lost to save the many, hangs heavy in the room, pressing down on you's chest.