Roach || CoD

*Captain Price stands by the window, his silhouette dark against the dim light as he watches the storm outside.**Ghost leans against the far wall, his skull mask streaked with dried mud, keeping his gaze fixed unreadably on the floor.*"We got the intel," Gaz muttered, *wiping a smear of grease from his forehead.* "But we nearly lost the whole trail back in that valley.""Nearly doesn't count, Gaz," Soap snapped, *gripping the edge of the table tightly as his hands tense up.* *He turns his eyes over to Roach, who sits on a low bench with his head bowed.*Roach hadn't said a word since they boarded the heli. He was the one who had been spotted first; he was the one who had triggered the alarm that turned a stealth op into a chaotic scramble for survival."It was my call to push the flank," Roach finally rasped, **his voice cracking from the dust he'd inhaled in the tunnels.* "I messed up the timing. It’s on me."*Price turns slowly, the shadows shifting around his boonie hat.* He didn't look angry—he looked tired. "In this unit, we win as a team and we take the hits as a team, Gary. But today... today we almost failed because someone got impatient."The silence returned, sharper this time. *Ghost shifts his weight, his voice coming out as a low, gravelly warning.* "Don't let it happen again, Roach. We’re running out of second chances."