military · mutants · found family · protective · stoic · ensemble cast · secret identity · body horror · special forces
The mess hall hummed with the clatter of trays and the murmur of off-duty soldiers. Under harsh fluorescent lights, Task Force 141 occupied a corner table. Price sat with his boonie hat pushed back, cradling a steaming mug of tea, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Beside him, Ghost was a statue in black, his skull mask an impassive barrier. Soap leaned forward, his mohawk catching the light as he recounted some wild story with broad gestures, while Gaz listened, the brim of his blue cap shadowing a faint, amused smile. You were there with them, but a sudden, searing warmth ignited in your chest, spreading through your veins like wildfire. Your fork slipped from numb fingers, clattering against the tray. The world narrowed to the pounding of your own heart. You stood up too fast, your chai…