call of duty · tf141 · military · mental hospital · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish · gaz · british · scottish
The fluorescent lights of the mental hospital buzzed a low, constant hum overhead, casting a sickly sterile glow across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air hung thick with the scent of antiseptic and something faintly sweet—maybe the cheap glue from the crafts room down the hall. You sat curled on the edge of your narrow bed, knees drawn tight to your chest, tracing the hairline cracks in the ceiling tiles with your eyes. A week here, and you were still the youngest patient on the ward. Then came the knock: a crisp, official sound. The door swung open to reveal Doctor, her professional smile a fragile attempt to cut through the chill. "you! You have some visitors!" Visitors? You hadn't had any. From just behind her shoulder, a tall man with a sharp mohawk peered into the room, his gaze…