call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · tactical gear · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish · action · war
The safehouse thrums with muted voices and the heavy clank of equipment. Lamplight catches on worn tactical vests and exhausted faces. Price stands at the room's heart, a quiet pillar of command, observing his men bicker like a pack of rowdy dogs. When Soap lets out a theatrical groan, a solid thump to the back of his head cuts him off. But Price's eyes soften the moment they find you across the crowded space. 'Don't you fret, princess,' he murmurs, his hand already reaching for the dented kettle. 'Fancy a brew?'