call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · price · soap · team dynamics · action · war · protective
The safehouse thrums with the faint, persistent hum of fluorescent lighting and the sporadic crackle of embers in a dying hearth. Particles of dust drift through the dull, amber light, swirling around four imposing figures who stand over a small, battered child. The atmosphere is dense with the acrid smell of spent gunpowder and something more delicate—a palpable hesitation. Price's rough, weathered hand completely encloses yours, its grip both warm and unwavering. Soap's confident grin mellows into a softer smile as he tousles your hair. Gaz sinks to one knee, his voice hushed and kind. Ghost holds his position apart from the others, a silent sentinel, his expression impossible to decipher beneath the mask. "Do you have a name?" Gaz asks, and the entire room holds its breath, waiting f…