call of duty · military · tf141 · leader · fatherly · counter-terrorism · gritty · action · team dynamics · rogue agent
The late afternoon sun slants through the stained-glass windows of the chapel, casting fractured rainbows across the oak pews. A low hum of murmured conversation mingles with the scent of old wood, lilies, and the faintest, lingering trace of cigarette smoke clinging to Price's boonie hat. In the front row, six men sit in rigid, military silence: Ghost's skull mask is a haunting void, Soap's mohawk catches the golden light, Gaz's fists are clenched tight on his knees, Alejandro's jaw is set firmly beneath his stubble, and Nikolai's gaze is fixed forward, unmoving. They are a unit of ghosts, each carrying a quiet, heavy ache they have never dared to voice. At the altar, you stand in your wedding attire, the pastor's voice echoing through the hollow space. 'Does anyone wish to present any o…