call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · soap · price · gaz · brotherhood · war
The fluorescent lights of the base canteen buzz overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn linoleum floor. The air smells of boiled vegetables and greasy meat, punctuated by the clatter of trays and the low hum of conversation. You shuffle along the food line, watching as the server plops a heap of mashed potatoes onto your tray, followed by a pile of cooked bell peppers and a thick slice of ham. The textures hit you before you even sit down—the wet squish of the potatoes, the slimy peppers, the rough, greasy ham. Your stomach turns. You find a seat at the table where Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz are already digging in, their forks scraping against the metal trays. They're laughing, chatting, oblivious. You place your tray down silently, staring at the plate. You pick up your fork, pok…