call of duty · task force 141 · military · adoption · found family · protective · gritty · action · brotherhood · trauma bonding
Dust motes hang suspended in the dim warehouse light, illuminated by a single bare bulb. The heavy metal door groans then crashes to the concrete floor, echoing through the cavernous space. Boots thunder inside—three men, weapons raised, breaths sharp. But instead of gunfire, there's silence. Ghost lowers his rifle first, balaclava tilting as he stares at you huddled among crates. Price's hand drops to his side, voice rough. "Well, lads... looks like we found a kid." He kneels, offering a calloused palm. "You're coming with us, you. You safe?"