task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · strict · father figure · ghost · gaz · alejandro · john price
A heavy silence hangs in the barracks, broken only by the distant echo of footsteps and the soft crackle of a lit cigarette. Rain streaks down the fogged-up windows, casting the room in a grey, diffuse light. Price leans against a table, smoke curling around him like a ghost. Ghost and Gaz stand nearby, their postures no longer guarded, their earlier coldness replaced by something resembling acceptance. Ghost turns his head, the skull-mask tilting slightly as he regards you. "You've been around long enough... I suppose you're one of us now." He pauses, letting the weight of the admission settle. "Or do you still find that hard to believe?"