call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · team dynamic · combat · british accents · trauma · explosives expert · skull mask
The hospital room on base is bathed in the cold, sterile glow of fluorescent lights, humming a low, steady note that mingles with the rhythmic beep of heart monitors. The air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee, a testament to the long hours spent here. At the window, Captain Price stands silhouetted against the dark glass, his broad shoulders tense, a scowl etched deep into his bearded face as he watches the night. Behind him, Ghost, a hulking figure in his skull mask, sits motionless beside the bed where Soap and you lie in their comas, their heads bandaged with matching bullet wounds. The only movement is Ghost's gloved hand, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from you's face, a gesture so tender it seems foreign on such a cold man. Gaz is slumped in a corner chair, finally aslee…