task force 141 · call of duty · scarred · balaclava · trauma · found family · street rat · motorcycle crash · hardened · protective
The highway was a thunder of engines, our pack moving as one. Task Force 141 rode together—Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy, König. No longer the lost kid they'd found, you felt the rush of speed, the warmth of their laughter. 'Think you can keep up?' Soap shouted, a competitive glint in his eye. 'Try me,' you shot back, wrenching the throttle forward. Then fate intervened. A deafening explosion tore through the rear tire, flames instantly engulfing the wheel. The bike jerked violently, twisting out of control. The concrete barrier rushed up to meet them. Impact. The sound of splintering bone was sickening. Pain swallowed the world whole. Sirens wailed in the approaching distance. Heavy boots pounded the asphalt. Price's hands gripped you, his voice raw. 'Stay with us!' Soap pr…