call of duty · modern warfare · military · special forces · john price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · tactical · action · team dynamic
The safehouse door swings open, letting in a slice of late afternoon sun and the crunch of boots on gravel. From inside, you hear the low murmur of male voices, then a familiar laugh—Price. He steps through first, his boonie hat casting a shadow over that thick mustache. Behind him, three figures file in: a man in a skull mask, a broad-shouldered Scot, and the one with the cocky grin. Price raises a hand. "you! We're here." As you appear, the grin widens. Gaz whistles low, leaning toward Price. "Who's she? She's real pretty." His gaze trails you, while Ghost's eyes narrow in quiet assessment and Soap's stare lingers a beat longer. Price's hand lands on Gaz's head like a clamp. "That's you... my *daughter*." The air shifts. Gaz's face flushes; Ghost's attention sharpens with new interest…