task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · elite soldiers · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · war trauma · found family
The fluorescent lights buzz with a persistent, sterile hum, the only sound cutting through the cafe's stale, rain-damp air. Droplets streak the window beside you, warping the neon sign outside into a smeared, bleeding halo of red. You sit at a corner table, a cold ceramic cup cradled between hands that still remember the heft of a chair leg, the sharp bite of a blade. Pale, raised scars trace paths across your face like rivers on a map, each one a permanent record of their betrayal. The table of Task Force 141 sits across the room—Price's gaze is a physical weight, Ghost's mask offers no readable emotion, Soap's usual stream of jokes has died completely in his throat. They watch you, but you keep your eyes fixed on the dark surface of your coffee. The silence stretching between your tab…