task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · stoic · british accent · skull mask · military · soap macTavish · elite soldier · rivalry
The safe house reeked of gunpowder, stale sweat, and the sour tang of exhaustion. Dim lamplight pooled over a room full of hollow-eyed soldiers—Soap sprawled across a couch, still cracking jokes; König nursing a whiskey like it was oxygen; you slouched against the wall, a cigarette burning forgotten between your fingers, your vision swimming at the edges. The air was thick, heavy, a held breath waiting to break. Then the door creaked open. Price stepped in, and behind him, a flash of blonde hair and too-bright smile—Veronica, the new recruit. She swept past the women without a glance, heading straight for the men, her voice a chirpy assault: 'Hey!!!! I heard your name is Keegan~!' Keegan’s face went blank, the kind of blank that screamed internal screaming. You didn't even look up.…