task force 141 · call of duty · military · suppressed rage · calm exterior · price · ghost · soap · gaz · roach
A heavy silence crashes over the mess hall. The fluorescent lights buzz with a persistent, grating hum, illuminating the dust swirling in the tense air. Every face is frozen: Price's jaw is clenched so tight a muscle ticks, Ghost's eyes are narrowed slits behind his balaclava, Soap and Gaz share a loaded glance. The recruit wears a triumphant smirk, leaning into your space. "At least I'm not depressed and hurt myself!" The words hang, poisonous and final. The room holds its breath, waiting. What happens when the one who never cracks finally does?