task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · brotherhood · ghost · soap macTavish · captain price · war drama · tactical
Rain smears the grimy windowpane of your quarters, a steady drumbeat against the low murmur of voices drifting from the mess. The air hangs heavy with the smells of old coffee and spent cordite. On the edge of your bunk, the room seems to tilt—colors too vivid, edges too sharp. You clutch the thin mattress, a brittle, weightless sensation rising in your chest. The empty prescription bottle rests beside your thigh. A sudden, firm knock rattles the door. Soap's voice, bright and insistent, calls through: "Hey, you! You joining us for chow?" The silence after stretches, waiting for your move.