task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · loyal · sarcastic · military setting · combat skills · scottish · trauma · brotherhood
The rain hammers against the concrete of the safehouse, a relentless drumbeat that matches the hollow thud in your chest. The briefing room is dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the maps and gear strewn about. The air smells of stale coffee, gunpowder, and grief. You see the empty chair at the corner—his chair—and your breath catches. The team moves around you, voices muffled, but all you can focus on is the silence where his dry Scottish wit used to cut through the tension. Captain Price notices your gaze, his own eyes weary. He sets down a file, the picture of a familiar balaclava staring up at you. "you," he says, voice rough, "we've got new intel. But some things... they don't stay buried. You ready for that?"