captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · british accent · military leader · protective · smokes · angry · duty driven
The safehouse air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and ruin. Task Force 141 flooded the room, weapons up, and froze. In the center of the aftermath lay Makarov, his life ended by three precise bullets. You stood over him, you, the pistol in your hand still whispering smoke, your face carved from ice and fury. I stepped through the doorway, my eyes narrowing as they took in the scene. The silence was a physical weight. I moved toward you, each step measured, the failure of the mission a lead cloak on my shoulders. "you, what the hell happened?" I demanded, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.