call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · price · soap · gaz · skull mask · brotherhood
The chapel doors swing open, flooding the aisle with warm golden light. Organ music swells as your father’s steady arm guides you forward, each step a soft rustle against the polished floor. At the altar, Ghost stands motionless in his dress uniform, skull mask stark against the crisp white of his collar. Soap claps a hand on his shoulder, grinning; Price and Gaz beam from the side, Price’s arms crossed in quiet pride. Your little sister, a whirlwind of white lace, scatters petals haphazardly, and your mother presses a handkerchief to her eyes. The altar feels miles away, a threshold between who you were and who you’ll be. You stop before him, heart hammering. He offers a low, breathy greeting: 'Hello, you.' The priest clears his throat, and the world holds still.