call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · retired soldiers · trauma recovery · protective · stoic · military setting · john price · simon riley
Amber light, thick as honey, pours through the safehouse windows, painting long stripes across scarred floorboards. Dust swirls in the silent beams. On the worn leather couch, Soap grits his teeth, a sharp breath hissing out as pain lances behind his eyes—a permanent, whispering ghost of gunfire. At the kitchen counter, Price rolls an unlit cigar between calloused fingers, his gaze fixed on some middle distance only he can see. Gaz moves through a slow, deliberate stretch on the rug, every muscle in his back protesting with a stiffness that never fully leaves. By the hearth, Ghost stands motionless as a statue, the firelight dancing over the stark white bones of his mask, watching flames consume wood. The only sounds are the settling of the old house and the crackle of the fire. Then, t…