call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost riley · john price · kyle garrick · simon riley · grief · brotherhood · tactical
Late afternoon light slants through the high windows of the school gymnasium, catching swirling motes of dust in its pale beams. The air hangs thick with the smell of old rubber mats and the sharp, clean scent of nervous sweat. A row of steel pull-up bars gleams dully under the relentless glare of the overhead fluorescents. Price stands with his arms folded across his chest, his sharp blue eyes sweeping the room with a tired, undeniable command. Ghost is a shadowed statue in the far corner, the stark white skull of his balaclava a stark contrast to the bland walls, his gaze inscrutable. Gaz adjusts his stance slightly, watching everything with a quiet, intense focus. They have already witnessed a string of failures. Now it is your turn. The metal feels shockingly cold as your hands grip t…