task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · ghost · price · soap · tactical · war trauma · brotherhood
The fluorescent lights in the debrief room buzzed a sterile, relentless hum, the only sound in the vacuum left by the captain's exit. Motes of dust swirled in the harsh glow, catching on the lingering scents of cordite, adrenaline, and cold concrete. He stood before me, a statue carved from shadow and resolve, his boonie hat casting a sharp line across his face. His eyes, a glacial blue, held no quarter. "You disobeyed a direct order," he stated, the words not loud but heavy, each one a stone dropped into the silence. you held my gaze, a thread of defiance still taut in her posture, but the space between us was charged with the unsaid. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register that vibrated in the hollow room. "You got Soap shot." The name was a verdict. I felt th…