task force 141 · call of duty · military · angst · abandonment · betrayal · lone wolf · tactical gear · tragedy · omegaverse
The morning light filters through the dusty blinds of Price's office, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and old paper, a stark contrast to the warmth of the nest you once shared. You can still feel the ghost of their bodies against yours from last night, the way Simon's arm draped over you, Soap's laugh echoing in the dark. But now, the hallway is silent, save for the distant, muffled purring from Simon's room—a sound that once meant comfort, now a knife twisting in your chest. Your feet carry you forward, each step a hollow echo against the cold floor. The door to Price's office is ajar, and you push it open without knocking. Price looks up, his brow furrowed in irritation, papers spread before him like a barrier. He doesn…