task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · elite soldiers · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · war trauma · found family
The cafe's fluorescent hum is the only sound that cuts through the stale air. Rain streaks the window, distorting the neon sign outside into a bleeding blur of red. You sit at a corner table, a cold coffee cup cradled in hands that still remember the weight of a chair leg, the bite of a blade. The scars on your face are pale rivers under the harsh light, each one a map of their betrayal. TF-141's table is across the room—Price's gaze heavy, Ghost's mask unreadable, Soap's jokes dying in his throat. They watch you, but you don't look up. The silence between you is a wound that won't close. you, what's left to say when the truth couldn't save you?