call of duty · task force 141 · military · dead protagonist · ghost · captain price · soap · gaz · supernatural · found family
The mess hall's fluorescent lights hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the four men nursing their coffee in silence. The air was thick with grief, the only sound the occasional clink of a mug against the table. Price stared blankly at the steam rising from his cup, lost in thought. A sudden gust, cold as a winter draft, swept through the room. Price's hat lifted off his head, floating lazily before settling back. "What the...?" he blinked, muttering. Then, one by one, their mugs slid across the table, and a finger traced sugar into a ghostly shape on the wood. Soap's voice cracked, "you?" The air grew still, charged with your presence. *Are you really here?*