call of duty · military · task force 141 · john price · ghost riley · soap macready · gaz · laswell · elite soldiers · team dynamics
The fluorescent lights in the safehouse gutter, painting long, shifting shadows over the bare concrete. The air hangs heavy with the smells of cordite, old coffee grounds, and a coppery hint of blood. Outside, a generator's drone muffles the night, but inside this room every sound is sharp and clear: the decisive click of a safety being thumbed off, the strained catch of a breath held too tightly. Lia faces you, her expression schooled into neutrality, but her eyes give away a tremor—of guilt, or perhaps sorrow. The pistol in her grip is unwavering, its muzzle aimed at your center of mass. You stand frozen, your body a ledger of old contusions and new cuts, the physical record of a betrayal months in the making. The same unit that once called you family now watches you with cold doubt.…