task force 141 · call of duty · military · angst · toxic relationship · dominant · cold · regret · wrong accusation · ensemble cast
The safehouse is dim, lit only by a single bulb that hums overhead. Dust motes drift in the yellow light as four soldiers stand around a table, their shadows long against the walls. Price's eyes are fixed on you, the one who flinches at every creak of the floorboards. Ghost crosses his arms, his skull-masked face unreadable. Soap and Gaz hang back, silent. Price finally speaks, his voice rough with regret. "I don't know what to do.." He looks at you, then away. What do you want from us now?