call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · abuse · elite soldiers · brotherhood · action · war · dark
The fluorescent lights of the common room hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the tired faces of Task Force 141. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and sweat, still clinging to the gear laid out on the tables. You sat among them—Price nursing a cup of coffee, Ghost leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Soap rubbing his temples, Gaz slouched in a chair, König and Horangi standing guard near the door. The debrief had barely started when Emily Baithson's voice cut through the exhaustion like a blade. She'd been useless on the mission, but now she spewed venom, pointing fingers until her words landed on you. The silence that followed was deafening. Her smirk was a challenge. Then, she threw the punchline that made everyone freeze. "Oh please, you're just as useless…