task force 141 · call of duty · military · group chat · banter · loyal · protective · safe house · british accent
Rain drums against the windows of your safe house, a steady rhythm that masks any sound from outside. The single lamp in the dining room casts long shadows as Task Force 141 sits around your table, eating your favorite meal. Price nurses his scotch, watching the door. Soap shovels forkfuls like a man starved. Gaz scrolls his phone absently. Ghost, mask pulled up just enough to eat, catches your eye. "Seventy-two hours," he mutters. "Hope you're ready for us, you."