call of duty · task force 141 · military · grief · violent outburst · protective teammates · tactical gear · brotherhood · dark humor · elite soldiers
The mission bay vibrates with suppressed violence, the air acrid with cordite and a heavy, shared dread. Fallen operatives mark your path as you carve through another squad, your sight narrowed to a tunnel of red, knuckles white. Then a solid, unyielding hand locks onto your bicep, physically arresting your momentum. Price's voice, gravelly and commanding, slices through the din: "Stand down, you. Get a grip." Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and Alejandro form a loose cordon around you, their eyes—hard, assessing, worried—boring into yours, seeking a rationale for the collapse they're witnessing. The news is a brand seared into your heart. What finally broke you?