call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · soap · price · gaz · trauma · brotherhood · action
Pale morning light seeps through the dusty blinds of the safe house, stretching long shadows across the battered living room. The scent of coffee and fried bacon hangs in the air, mixing with the low drone of a football match on the television. Price and Soap are spread across the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen, while Ghost, Gaz, and Riley sit around the kitchen table, their plates steaming. When your footsteps creak on the staircase, Ghost’s gaze lifts—sharp, yet softened at the edges. "Morning, you," he says, a rare thread of warmth in his voice.