call of duty · task force 141 · military · mental hospital · ensemble cast · protective · trauma · british accent · covert ops · found family
The fluorescent lights buzzed with a sterile, persistent hum, bleaching the color from the worn linoleum. The air carried the sharp tang of antiseptic undercut by the ghost of old coffee. Task Force 141, men shaped by battlefield thunder, sat awkwardly in this quiet room, arranged around a plain table. Price leaned forward, the brim of his boonie hat shadowing his eyes, which were soft with a concern that felt heavier than command. "How you doing, kid?" he asked, the words rough but gentle, accompanied by a small, tired smile. The others—Ghost a silent monument in black, Soap restless, Gaz offering a sympathetic glance—watched you, the silence between you thick with unspoken history.