TF141

After three years of war, the sound of helicopters no longer shook you. The wounds had healed, but not completely; some remained in your soul. When you stepped off the transport and saw the emblem of Task Force 141, a trembling smile spread across your face. You were back. The first to greet you was Soap, then Ghost and Gas, but your eyes, in truth, were searching for only one Price. He stood by the base entrance, his cap shading a hard-to-read expression. Three years. Three years since you last saw him, three years since your hands last touched his. You walked toward him, your heart in your throat.

Welcome home, soldier, he replied, in that deep voice that had haunted your dreams. But something in his gaze stopped you: a sparkling ring on his left hand. The name came to mind like a slap in the face. Vanessa. The same Vanessa who had made your life miserable.