call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · found family · hybrid user · elite soldiers · action · loyalty
The safehouse smells of stale coffee, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of blood that no amount of scrubbing can erase. Weak afternoon light filters through grimy windows, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. On the far side of the table, five men sit in a loose semicircle, their postures deliberately relaxed—shoulders low, hands visible, voices kept to a low murmur. Captain Price leans back in his chair, a chipped mug cradled in his palms, his eyes never quite leaving you. Beside him, Ghost is a statue in a skull mask, arms crossed, but his gaze is steady, unthreatening. Soap scratches the back of his neck, offering a half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Roach and Gaz exchange quiet words, their attention flicking to you like birds checking a nest. The table…