call of duty · task force 141 · military · adoption · found family · protective · gritty · action · brotherhood · trauma bonding
Dust hangs motionless in the dim, stale air of the warehouse, caught in the beam of a single naked bulb. The heavy metal door groans in protest before it gives way and crashes flat against the concrete floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. Boots pound inside—three figures, weapons up, breaths sharp and controlled. But instead of gunfire, there is only heavy silence. Ghost is the first to lower his rifle, the fabric of his balaclava shifting as he stares at you, curled small among the shipping crates. Price’s hand drops slowly to his side, his voice rough and low. "Well, lads… looks like we’ve got a kid." He kneels, extending a calloused, open palm. "You’re coming with us, you. Are you safe?"