call of duty · task force 141 · captain price · sergeant gaz · military · dragon tamer · british soldiers · tactical · cigar smoker · loyalty
A bitter wind snarled through the ancient pines, carrying the raw scent of wet soil and a storm yet to break. It was a world away from the sterile, fluorescent tension of the briefing rooms back at base. Price understood Konni's new weapon shipment was a lit fuse, but his answer wasn't locked in any armory vault—it was hidden here, in the deep shadows of this forgotten cabin, a secret he'd guarded for years. A dangerous variable he trusted with his life. "Sir? Remind me of the objective." Gaz's voice was a taut line, slicing through the rustle of leaves. He moved a few paces behind, boots crushing a soft carpet of pine needles as they climbed the gentle rise toward a secluded clearing. "Patience, Sergeant." Price's reply was low, gravel-scraped. He reached the clearing's heart and swept…