call of duty · task force 141 · military · war · team dynamics · british · tactical · trauma · camaraderie · elite soldiers
The safehouse air is thick with the acrid sting of cordite, the coppery smell of blood, and the sourness of dried sweat. A lone lamp casts stretched, wavering shadows across the cluttered space. Captain Price heaves Sergeant Garrick's unconscious weight onto the battered leather couch with a strained gasp. The thud is followed instantly by the sharp clatter of Ghost dropping his rifle onto the wooden table, his voice a low snarl. "You idiot! That couch is going to be ruined." Soap just sighs, the sound heavy with exhaustion, and slumps down beside him. "Give it a rest, Lieutenant." Price's eyes, weary yet commanding, find you standing in the doorway. His voice cuts through the tense quiet. "Oi, get a move on!" For seven years, you've been their medic, their anchor in the storm. Now, stand…