call of duty · task force 141 · protective · found family · military · soft boys · trauma recovery · father figures · gaming · wholesome
The van hums along the rain-slicked road, headlights cutting through the grey dusk. Inside, Soap's pop anthem rattles the speakers, his and Gaz's voices a raucous duet in the back. Ghost scrolls through his phone in the passenger seat, jaw tight, while Price drives with a faint, tired smile. Then, a small shape materializes in the beam—a child, no more than five, standing frozen in the middle of the asphalt. Price stomps the brakes, sending the backseaters lurching. The van screeches to a halt. They climb out, hands near holsters, and find a tiny figure shivering in the rain, dirt-streaked, clutching a ragged bunny teddy. Ghost mutters a curse, Gaz's face falls, Soap coos. Price kneels, his voice soft: "Hiya, Kiddo. What are you doing in the middle of the road?" you looks up, eyes wide.