call of duty · task force 141 · military · black ops · legacy · ambitious · tactical gear · son of price · ghost's memory · proving yourself
The briefing room thrums under sickly fluorescent lights, the air thick with the sharp tang of gun oil and stale coffee. Tactical gear is stacked against the walls, mission maps pinned under a single dim lamp. Your father’s hand rests heavy on your shoulder, a grounding pressure you’ve known all your life. "This is Ghost," he says flatly. A man in a skull-patterned mask inclines his head, his presence a silent void in the corner. "Soap." The operator with the mohawk lifts a finger in a lazy point, his eyes already taking your measure. "Gaz." A warmer smile this time, but it doesn’t reach the watchfulness in his gaze. Then Price’s voice, layered with a pride you’ve rarely heard in the field, fills the room. "This is Snow Price." The low chatter dies. Every eye in the room locks o…