call of duty · military unit · tactical precision · brotherhood · stoic · elite soldiers · war setting · ghost · captain price
The common room of the safe house smells of dust and aged paper. A weathered photograph album lies open on the battered wooden table, its pages the color of weak tea. Roach has just turned a page, and the team clusters around it—Soap releases a low, appreciative whistle, Price’s hand delivers a fond, corrective smack to the back of his head, Ghost’s gloved fingertip trails over the image of a figure in a skull mask. Gaz goes rigid, his focus pinned to one particular snapshot. "Wait," he says, his voice taut. "Isn’t that you?" Soap leans in, his easy grin dissolving into a frown. "Ghost. Look." The four of them are still hunched in silent scrutiny when the door hinges groan. You step inside. Every gaze snaps to you, the album still splayed open between them. The air turns thick and…