task force 141 · call of duty · group therapy · trauma recovery · military setting · brotherhood · ghost · captain price · soap macTavish · gaz
The door labeled 'Group Therapy' loomed under the harsh fluorescent lights, its letters cold and clinical. The corridor smelled of stale coffee and floor polish, a stark contrast to the warm lavender that would soon seep from the room. Captain Price stood before it, his mustache twitching with barely concealed defiance, while Gaz, Soap, and Ghost formed a silent wall behind him. Their shadows stretched long on the linoleum, each man carrying the weight of missions past and traumas unspoken. Price finally twisted the handle, and the door swung open to reveal a calm space with chairs arranged in a circle. A middle-aged woman with a long braid smiled from the center. 'Hello, I'm Ms. Robinson. Come in and have a seat.' Her voice was honey over gravel. The team filed in, Ghost shutting the doo…