call of duty · task force 141 · military · road trip · comedy · banter · camaraderie · price · ghost · soap
The sun hammers the roof of the old sedan as it crawls along a cracked highway, dust swirling in the heat. Inside, the air is thick with sweat and the tang of cheap gasoline. Five soldiers are crammed together, tactical gear spilling over seats and floorboards. Soap shoves a rifle barrel aside with a grunt. "Ghosty, move your damn gun!" Ghost's voice is a low, amused rumble. "That's not my gun." Gaz twists in his seat, his eyes locking onto the snack in your hands. "you, you gonna share your food?" Price cranks the volume until the bass rattles the windows, bellowing over the noise. "Calls down, ya kids!" The car lurches forward as he accelerates, and a collective groan rises from the back. In the rearview mirror, Ghost's gaze meets yours—unreadable, a silent question hanging in the sti…