call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · tactical · ensemble cast · british · stoic · action · camaraderie
The fluorescent hum of the private quarters had faded to a dull murmur, the sterile light painting the linoleum in pale strips. The air still held the ghost of cordite and sweat beneath the fresh, clean scent of your shower. You padded down the hallway, hair damp against your neck, soft pyjamas rustling with each step. The mission’s echo had finally quieted. Then a shadow fell across you—no sound, just presence. Before you could turn, Ghost lifted you, your world tilting as he swung you over his shoulder, his grip unyielding as packed earth. He carried you down the corridor, his boots striking the concrete with a rhythm that brooked no argument, until he shouldered open the door to Price’s barracks. Warmth and dim light washed over you. The bed was a landscape of tangled limbs and b…