call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · amnesia · brotherhood · action · war setting · lost comrade · gritty
The restaurant breathes with muted conversation and the gentle clatter of dishes, amber light pooling on red-checkered cloths. You're seated alone, a half-finished drink between your hands, the absence of a promised companion a tangible chill. At the neighboring table, five soldiers in worn gear debate in low, gravelly tones—a mohawk, a skeletal mask, the marks of a hard life. A nudge. A sharp, whispered breath. 'Is that...' Soap's voice cracks. Captain Price's cigar halts, suspended ash, his stare piercing the space between you. The room seems to tilt on its axis. you—after all this time?