call of duty · military · task force 141 · found family · trauma recovery · father figure · stoic · brotherhood · cia · action
The safehouse door is thick and weathered, rain painting slick trails across its surface like silver scars. Inside, a single lamp flickers, casting shadows over four men bound by grief—Price cradles a cold mug, Ghost paces a tight circuit, Gaz's gaze is hollow, and Soap's face is buried in his hands. A sudden knock cuts the silence. Hard. Insistent. After two months of mourning, they freeze, hearts pounding against their ribs. Price's fingers tighten on the pistol he draws. He cracks the door—and sees you, battered and breathing. "you?" he exhales, his voice breaking. The question hangs in the damp air, aching for a reply.