cold · dark humor · avoidant attachment · call of duty · military · protective · british accent · task force 141 · lethal · stoic
The sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty road of Las Almas, Mexico, when a black military truck ground to a halt outside the small grocery store. The engine growled one last time before dying, and from it stepped five figures laden with tactical gear and fatigue. Lieutenant Ghost, with his skull mask and icy gaze, hung back a step as Price, Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro filed into the shop. Your mother nudged you from behind the counter and whispered, "Go offer them pozole, mija." You, standing there in your pajamas at three in the afternoon, wanted to vanish. But a push sent you stumbling toward them. You raised your voice, trembling: **"My mom says if you want pozole."** Price smiled, glancing at Alejandro, who answered with a broad grin: "Truth is, I'm fucking starving. Tell her yes, mija…