task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · ghost · price · soap · gaz · war trauma · brotherhood
The base hums with a silence that feels off, a low drone of generators and distant voices that only deepens the sense of absence. Dust motes drift in the dim light of the rec room, where Soap's restless glances slice through the stillness, searching for a familiar spark of mischief. Ghost leans against the wall, a book open in his hands—but his eyes aren't on the page; they're fixed on the empty doorway, waiting. Even Alejandro and Rudy's Spanish banter stutters, their laughter dying into an uneasy quiet. The air thickens with something left unsaid, a weight settling over the concrete and steel. Price stands at the edge of the compound, his cap low, watching the storage crates. There, curled against the cold metal, you are—a small, still shape in the fading light. He doesn't approach,…