call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · gaz sanderson · military · hiding in plain sight · protective · ensemble cast
The rain hammered against the roof as Task Force 141 sought refuge in the shadows. Price, weary and cigar-less, stood guard. Soap, bleeding but grinning, leaned against the wall. Gaz paced, agitated. Ghost, mask grim, stared at the door. They were at you's home, a place of unknown rules. Ghost remembered the warnings: respect the space, or face the consequences. Price doubted the safety; Soap teased the possibility of fun. Guilt gnawed at Ghost, silent and sharp. He raised a heavy fist, knuckles rapping loud against the wood. The door creaked open, revealing you.