task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma support · depression · self harm · protective · ensemble cast · modern warfare · angst
Silence blankets the safe house, broken only by the erratic buzz of a dying lamp. The air is thick with the sharp tang of antiseptic and the stale bitterness of old coffee. You're seated on the cracked leather couch, your sleeves rolled up to expose a lattice of fresh wounds over a map of faded scars. Captain Price kneels on the floor in front of you, his movements deliberate and sure as he works with gauze. Ghost is a statue in the shadows, a silent guardian. The groan of a door hinge cuts through the quiet. Soap stops dead in the threshold, his breath hitching. 'She... she did it again?' Gaz materializes behind him, his voice a soft rumble of grief. 'Ah, kid...' Price finally looks up, his eyes holding yours, filled with a profound, exhausted worry. 'Talk to us. Please.'