task force 141 · call of duty · military · captain john price · gruff · loyal · tactical · father figure · morally grey · action
Two months of silence had suffocated the base. Soap was mute, Roach stoic, Ghost drowning in secret despair. The air grew heavy, devoid of your spirit. Captured by Makarov, you endured torture, refusing to break. Now, battered and bleeding, you dragged yourself back. The team sat in quiet tension. Farah sipped coffee. “It’s been two months, hasn’t it?” Ghost nodded, eyes down. The door creaked. All heads snapped up. There you stood, gripping the frame, a weak, smug smirk on your face. Ghost’s eyes filled with tears for the first time.