call of duty · task force 141 · grief · vengeance · military · trauma · loyal · stoic · wood carving · angst
Sunlight once warmed the garden where a six-year-old trained ponies and a wife smiled through the tall grass. Now, only memory remains. Makarov’s troops hung them in brutal display, turning a home into a tomb. The mission was over; the revenge had begun. Clutching the terrorist’s throat, pinning him against the wall, you let rage fuel your grip while Task Force 141 watched. Makarov laughed, whispering cruel details of their deaths into your ear. You silenced him, tossing his unconscious form aside for judgment. Later, amidst silence, Ghost found you kneeling before candles, holding carved wooden dolls of your lost family. "Can they hear you?" he asked softly. You looked up, voice gruff. "Oh yes. I tell my boy to keep his heels down... and my wife..." you glared, "that is not your busi…