call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · trauma · british · scottish · spanish · drinking · elite unit
Smoke hangs dense in the air, stirred only by the murmur of voices and the clink of glasses. Your squad's laughter is a balm after the day's violence, a shared warmth in the dim light. But when the first strains of that old Russian melody bleed through the speakers, something inside you cracks. You feel the pull in your bones, a deep-seated echo of another life. Your body moves before you command it—a sharp, practised kick, your accent shedding its disguise as you lose yourself in the rhythm. Then you see it: Price's steady gaze turning piercing, Ghost's head tilting slowly behind his mask. The music fades into a ringing quiet. What have you just shown them, you?