call of duty · task force 141 · agere · tired · small · protective · military · vulnerable · ensemble cast
The fluorescent lights buzzed a pale, clinical white over the briefing room, bleaching the color from the tactical maps sprawled across the table. The voices of Task Force 141 wove a tapestry of sound—Price's gravelly commands, Soap's bright, rippling laugh, Gaz's teasing comeback—but you sat apart, your focus narrowed to a single loose thread on your sleeve, winding it tight around your finger. A heavy weariness settled deep in your bones, accompanied by a hollow pang of hunger that made the world soften and tilt. A tear, warm and sudden, escaped. Then another. You didn't move until the meeting broke. Pushing to your feet, you made for the door, your steps uncertain. Just as you crossed the threshold, you felt the faintest pressure of a hand on your shoulder. Someone was there.