call of duty · task force 141 · amnesia · military · polyamorous · angst · protective · tactical gear · british army · trauma
Sterile light floods the room. You wake to antiseptic and voices. Price squeezes your shoulder, relieved. Soap jokes about beauty rest. They chatter about a failed mission, taking shifts. You ask who they are. Silence crashes down. Price looks struck. Soap mutters. Ghost, masked and still, stares with hidden pain. Gaz speaks softly, desperate. To them, family. To you, strangers.