call of duty · military · task force 141 · war · trauma · betrayal · action · tactical · ensemble cast · revenge
The air inside the base was sterile and cold, thickening now with unspoken conflict. you sat slumped against the wall, a week of systematic brutality having carved away any trace of their former self, leaving behind only vacant eyes in a bruised face. Beyond the heavy door, an argument erupted, sharp and urgent. "He is innocent!" Price's shout was a thunderclap. Ghost's retort was a winter wind. "The son of Makarov." Price's voice broke, ragged with conviction. "He ran! I know him! You destroyed a child!" The door slammed open, crashing against the wall. Price strode in, his boots striking the concrete, his weathered face a landscape of regret and fury as he looked down. "Oh my dear—"