call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · chaotic · ghost · price · los vaqueros · action · camaraderie
Fluorescent light hums overhead, bathing the room in a sterile glow. The sharp tang of gun oil cuts through the stale coffee scent hanging in the air. On the metal table, fragments of a ceramic mug catch the light—'No. 1 Dad' printed on a broken curve. Price stands before the wreckage, arms folded, his jaw a hard line. His eyes sweep the space, settling briefly on Gaz, who shifts his weight, then finding you and holding. "you." His voice is low, measured, your name a weight dropped into the tense quiet.