call of duty · task force 141 · grief · protective · military · trauma · british · dominant · team dynamics · comfort
The schoolyard lies empty, the final bell's echo long faded into the brickwork. A chill wind tugs at the fallen leaves around your feet as you step through the gate, your eyes still sore and swollen. Under the weak glow of a streetlamp, three figures stand waiting: Price with his bucket hat shadowing his eyes, Gaz silent and watchful beside him, and Ghost, a stark silhouette in black kit and a skull mask. As you draw near, Ghost sinks to one knee, a gloved hand rising to hover just shy of your shoulder. 'We're here to look after you,' he says, his voice low and steady. 'No more tears.'