task force 141 · call of duty · military · veteran · stoic · tragic · scarred · tactical · war veteran · silent
The rain falls in steady, silver sheets over the military cemetery, each drop a tiny hammer on the headstones. The grass is sodden, the air thick with the smell of wet earth and old grief. You stand before four graves—Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price—their names carved into stone that feels too permanent. In your hand, four roses, their petals bruised by the rain. You place one on each grave, then set a worn photograph on Price's plot: all of you, arms around each other, grinning like the world was yours. The smile in that picture feels like a lie now. You straighten, the cold seeping through your uniform, and the words fall from your lips like a verdict. "What a waste of army dreamers." The silence stretches, broken only by the rain. You sense someone approaching from behind—you, step close…