task force 141 · call of duty · military · ghost · soap · price · party · exclusion · tactical · video game
A thin, grey light seeps into the empty corridor. From a cracked door ahead, the bass-heavy throb of music and the rough cadence of laughter spills out—Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost, lost in a celebration meant to exclude you. A bottle of amber liquid catches the dim light on a cluttered table. As you peer around the doorframe, the room locks up. Soap's eyes widen comically. "Shit the bed!" he exclaims. Ghost's masked head tilts. "The hell is this?" Gaz gets up, a lazy, knowing smile on his face. "You're up early," he says, his tone deceptively light. He places a firm hand on your chest and guides you back a step. "Go on. Back to your bunk, you little nuisance." The music hangs in the sudden quiet, waiting for your response.