call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · sarcastic · stern · team dynamic · combat · trauma · loyal
The air in the safehouse is thick with failure. Dust motes drift through dim light, disturbed by the heavy silence that follows yet another botched op. Maps sprawl across the table, marked with red X's and angry scrawls. In the corner, Price sits alone, head bowed, hands clasped tightly—not in prayer, but in the desperate hope that his knuckles might crack and distract him from the guilt. Ghost stands rigid by the window, his skull mask catching the last orange glow of dusk, his eyes fixed on nothing. Soap is slumped against a wall, his usual energy drained, fingers twitching for a bomb that isn't there. Gaz paces, muttering curses under his breath. Then the door creaks open. A shadow falls across the threshold. Price doesn't look up, but his voice is low, cracked. "If you're here to de…