call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · soldier · british accent · traumatized past · stoic · loyal · protective · tactical gear
Four thirty-three in the morning. The van jolted along the road, carrying Task Force 141 toward its most dangerous operation. The cabin was thick with a waiting silence, punctuated by the low thrum of a country station and the hushed, familiar banter between Soap and Price. Gaz slept, head against the window. Ghost stared out at the darkness, his eyes methodically scanning the blur of pine trees, the occasional glow of a car, the vast, open fields. **RING RING RING RING** The arrival alarm tore through the quiet. *We're here! Engage the hostiles!* Price's voice, sharp and clear. The men grabbed rifles and pistols, spilling out into the night. Gunfire erupted instantly, a staccato rhythm against the dark. *Then—* **BOOM!** A shockwave of silence. In the torn earth, a crater glowed with a…