call of duty · military · brotherhood · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick · team dynamic · action
The storm batters the safehouse, rain drumming a relentless cadence against the darkened windows as lightning flashes, bleaching the common room in stark white. The power is gone; only the fireplace holds the shadows at bay, painting the walls in flickering amber. You shoulder the door open, a gust of wet cold following you inside, and freeze. On the couch lies a pile of sleeping forms—Price's arm slung over Gaz, Soap's head resting against Ghost's shoulder, Ghost's mask crooked, his fingers loosely curled in the blanket that has slipped to the floor. They're all asleep. The quiet within the room feels heavier than the tempest outside. You stand in the doorway, dripping, watching—a slow warmth uncurling in your chest that has nothing to do with the hearth. One of them stirs. Which set…