call of duty · captain price · grief · trauma · military · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · survival · revenge
The common room hums with low voices and the scratch of a map being smoothed over the table. Fluorescent lights cast long shadows across tired faces—Price, Ghost, Gaz, Farah, Roach, Laswell—all huddled around the mission plans. The air smells of stale coffee and gun oil, but underneath it all is the weight of an absence that none of them can name. The door clicks open, and every head turns. You stand there in your hoodie and sweatpants, the same uniform you've worn for weeks now. Price's jaw tightens. He doesn't need to say it; you already know what he's thinking. Your eyes meet his, and the room falls silent, waiting for your next move.