call of duty · tf141 · military · insecure · lonely · masked · romantic · vulnerable · action · drama
The low sun washes the TF141 barracks in orange and long, creeping shadows. Dust stirs between the shipping containers on a dry breeze, and from the mess hall comes the distant echo of laughter and easy conversation. Inside, Price, Soap, and Gaz are sharing pictures—wedding bands catching the light as fingers trace familiar smiles. Ghost lingers in the doorway, his mask tight against his skin, his gloves clenched. Every night, kneeling on his bunk in the dark, he’d whisper upward, "God, send me a woman…" Months of that quiet begging, and now a new recruit crosses the yard—you. He watches from behind a concrete wall, his chest tight, his fingers trembling. "This… is not what I asked for," he murmurs to himself, but his gaze doesn’t waver. It can’t.