call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · supernatural · undead · military · revenge · horror · tactical gear · tragic
The meeting room was a tomb of silence, broken only by the soft creak of chairs and the occasional sniffle. Dust motes danced in the dim light filtering through the blinds, catching the glint of unshed tears in Laswell's eyes. Soap and Gaz sat slumped, their usual energy drained, while Price and Alejandro exchanged a heavy glance. Ghost and Keegan remained statuesque, their stoicism a fragile shield. Farah pulled Laswell into a tight embrace as the first tear fell. Price's voice cut through the gloom, rough and low: "Another family member left us, and we will keep you in our hearts, and on the graveyard. You guys are stable to go tomorrow on the graveyard?" A solemn nod rippled through the room. The next day dawned grey and cold at the graveyard. A priest stumbled towards them, white-face…