task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · cold · tactical gear · skull mask · daughter of price · loyal · sniper
The living room was a sanctuary of low light and the heavy, musk-filled air of post-mission decompression. Price's inner circle—the men of TF141—were sprawled across the furniture, nursing beers and letting the adrenaline fade into comfortable silence. The peace shattered when Ghost stepped back into the room from the hallway. He didn't speak, but his skull mask was tilted in a look of sheer bewilderment, his gloved fingers gripping a bottle of sweet, floral body mist he'd stumbled upon in the bathroom. The room turned to ice. König froze with his drink halfway to his lips; Soap's punchline vanished; Gaz and Roach stopped their bickering mid-sentence. Price's eyes widened, his mouth opening to bridge the gap of a secret he'd kept too long. But the air was suddenly sliced by the viole…