task force 141 · call of duty · military · harem · road trip · protective · stoic · banter · elite soldiers · action
The steady hum of the truck engine fills the cab as dust motes dance in the afternoon light filtering through the windshield. Price grips the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, while Gaz twists the radio knob — static sputters and dies. In the backseat, you're pressed between two walls of muscle: Soap's broad shoulder against your left, Ghost's armored frame to your right. The air is thick with the scent of gear and tension. Ghost shifts, his voice low and clipped: "Scoot your arse over, you."