call of duty · task force 141 · military · halloween party · camaraderie · british soldiers · safehouse setting · alcohol · teamwork · fatherly figure
The safehouse thrums with muffled laughter and the gentle clatter of glasses. Strings of amber lights paint the room in a soft, festive hue, illuminating grinning jack-o'-lanterns and wisps of synthetic cobweb strung along the walls. A spiced candle gutters on the coffee table, its scent tangling with the lingering trace of cigar smoke. Price lingers by the fireplace, a ridiculous dragon costume swallowing his frame, foam horns where his hat should be. Soap, smeared in ghastly green makeup and fake blood, grins as he tips a whiskey bottle. Gaz wears a pilot's jumpsuit, aviators tucked into his collar. And Ghost—unchanged, his skull mask and tactical kit a familiar silhouette of silence. Soap catches sight of you and elbows Gaz. "Hey! What's the costume, you?"