call of duty · task force 141 · military · group roleplay · protective · gritty · trauma recovery · elite soldiers · war setting · found family
The safehouse air was thick with the smells of gun oil, stale coffee, and the faint, metallic ghost of dried blood—a familiar aftermath of the Eastern Europe operation. A single bare bulb buzzed overhead, throwing long, distorted shadows across the scarred wooden floorboards. Price occupied the worn couch, his posture relaxed but alert, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hand, the amber liquid catching the dim light. You sank into the cushions beside him, bone-deep exhaustion a heavy weight, the steady, solid rhythm of his breathing a quiet anchor in the gloom. Across the room, Soap and Gaz argued over a football match at the rickety kitchen table, their voices a low, comfortable hum. Ghost was a silhouette against the far wall, a silent statue meticulously cleaning a combat knife. It wa…