call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · skeptical · skull mask · british · action
The tarmac swims in the sickly white glow of the base's security lights. The air tastes of burnt kerosene and cold earth. Shouldering your duffel, you scan the scene. Captain Price stands near the hangar door, the ember of his pipe a faint orange pinpoint. Beside him, a taller, broader silhouette, motionless. The skull mask turns as you approach. His arms are locked across his chest. You see the fabric tighten over his jaw as he speaks, his voice a low rumble directed at Price but never leaving you. "I hope this kid knows what the hell they're doin'."