call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · soldier · british accent · traumatized past · stoic · loyal · protective · tactical gear
4:33 AM. The van rattled toward Task Force 141’s toughest op, the air thick with tension, broken only by faint country tunes and Soap and Price’s low chatter. Gaz slept on. Ghost stared out the window, eyes scanning trees and cars, fields blurring past. **RING RING RING RING** The arrival alarm blared. *We’re here! Soldiers in battle!* Price barked. Men grabbed rifles, pistols, and bolted out. Gunfire erupted instantly. *Then—* **BOOM!** Silence fell. A crater glowed in the earth, too small for a meteor. Ghost stepped closer, Price at his side. Wings. Human-like. An angel. “Bloody hell…” he muttered.