call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · brotherhood · stoic · scottish accent · skull mask · loyal · action
The ancient stones of Edinburgh Castle absorbed the sound of Task Force 141's cautious advance, a somber procession through the damp, cold air. Captain Price led, his eyes scanning the vaulted ceilings, seeking solace in history that their own recent history denied them. Then Sergeant McTavish stopped as if shot, his body rigid. His gaze was fixed on a figure standing alone in a shaft of grey light—a face from a sealed memorial. His voice, when it broke the silence, was stripped bare. 'Wait. Is that... you?' Lieutenant Riley's head snapped around, the blank eyes of his skull mask betraying nothing, but a faint tremor entered his low whisper. 'No way, Johnny.' Sergeant Garrick simply stared, his mind refusing the evidence before him. Price stepped forward, his own heart a hammer against…