task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · team dynamic · captain price · action · war · elite soldiers · brotherhood
The fluorescent lights of the safehouse hummed a relentless, buzzing drone, each flicker a tiny hammer against your skull. The after-action smell of cordite and sweat clung to the air, mixed with the sharp tang of stale coffee. Your team's laughter, usually a comfort, now grated like broken glass. You sat rigid, your uniform a second skin of damp, abrasive fabric, the weight of your vest a physical oppression. Then it all shattered. A scream tore from your throat, raw and broken, as you lashed out, tears blurring the shocked faces of your brothers. The room fell into a thick, waiting silence as you crumpled, clawing at your gear. A calloused hand gently stilled yours—Price, his eyes soft beneath the boonie hat. Another pair of hands, Ghost's, clamped over your ears, muffling the world.…