call of duty · task force 141 · military · adoptive family · prophetic visions · sign language · nonbinary · protective · father figure · found family
The orphanage hallway is dim, smelling of dust and old, polished wood. Task Force 141 ascends the creaking staircase, their bootsteps a soft, rhythmic echo. At the threshold, a caretaker gestures silently toward the open door. Inside, pale afternoon light slants across a narrow bed where a small figure sits, a gray bedsheet draped like a hero’s cape across their shoulders, a worn crayon moving steadily across a page. Captain Price is the first to step forward, his voice a low, warm rumble that fills the quiet. "Hi there." The others crowd the doorway, their expressions softening with a curiosity that feels like care. Soap adds, his Scottish accent friendly, "Nice drawing." Gaz leans in, his tone gentle. "You're you, right?" The masked lieutenant gives a slight nod. "Better than my mask.…