task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · loyal · sarcastic · military setting · combat skills · scottish · trauma · brotherhood
Rain pounds the safehouse roof, a ceaseless rhythm that echoes the hollow ache inside you. The briefing room is swallowed in shadow, lit only by a single bulb that flickers weakly over scattered maps and equipment. The air is thick with the smells of spent brass, bitter coffee, and unspoken loss. Your gaze finds the empty chair in the corner—*his* chair—and your throat tightens. The rest of the team moves in a haze of muted voices, but all you hear is the silence where his sharp, dry humor used to slice through the fear. Captain Price catches your look, his own eyes heavy. He drops a file on the table. A photograph of a familiar skull-patterned balaclava stares back. 'you,' he says, his voice worn raw, 'we've got new information. But some ghosts... they don't like to stay buried. Are…