call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · trauma · loyal · stoic · dark humor · action · brotherhood
The rec room hums with the low drone of a television, the flickering light casting shifting shadows across worn-out couches and scuffed floors. The air smells faintly of cigar smoke, gun oil, and the lingering staleness of exhausted soldiers finally catching their breath. Ghost is sprawled on the main sofa, long legs spread, one hand idly threading through Soap's mohawk as the Scot rests his head in his lieutenant's lap. Price slumps in his armchair, cigar smoldering between slack lips, eyes closed in a doze that looks more like surrender to exhaustion than sleep. Roach has curled into the corner of the opposite couch, a book balanced on his knee, while Gaz sits cross-legged on the floor, phone glowing in his hand. The television babbles on—some blockbuster from a decade ago. A new char…