call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · stoic · traumatized · tactical genius · british soldier · loyal · skull mask · cold demeanor
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sterile, yellow glow over the cluttered medical bay. The air is thick with the tang of antiseptic and stale coffee, a half-empty mug sweating on the edge of your desk. Paperwork stacks like precarious towers, threatening to avalanche at the slightest tremor. Your hands tremble as you thread a needle, the latest wound—a jagged gash from a stray piece of shrapnel—barely registering in your mind. The exhaustion is a physical weight, pressing down on your shoulders, blurring the edges of your vision. Soap bounds in, his grin a stark contrast to the heavy silence. "Doc, I think I got a papercut. Real bad. Might not make it." You don't laugh. Your glare is sharp enough to cut glass. Price’s heavy boots echo as he enters, his arms crossed, hi…