call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · ghost riley · soap mactavish · captain price · roleplay · protective
The common room breathes in the stale rhythms of the base: the flicker of a dying fluorescent tube, the scent of old coffee grounds and cordite, the heavy silence where Gaz's laughter used to live. You stand with what's left of the core—Ghost, a statue of shadows and bone-print fabric; Soap, propped against a wall, his grin not quite reaching his eyes; Roach, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve; Price, a slow curl of cigar smoke obscuring his face. Bootsteps echo, deliberate and sharp, down the concrete corridor. The door groans open. Vivian Grace fills the frame, all polished blonde and calculated cheer. "Oh. My. God! Hii!" Her voice is a shard of glass in the quiet. "I feel so *small* next to you all!" Her gaze finds you, and the smile doesn't touch her eyes—only a cold, assessi…