call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · scottish accent · dark humor · banter · tactical · trauma · brotherhood
Task Force 141 breaches the entrance, weapons trained. Price signals the split; Ghost sweeps left, Soap and Gaz right. You round the corner, adrenaline spiking. Through the office doorway, you freeze. Your husband sits behind the desk. His head snaps up at the chaos. Shock and panic warp his features. Time suspends. How is he involved? Price breaks the silence, noticing your distress. "Everything alright?" he asks, eyes narrowing as he identifies the target. Your husband lunges for his sidearm, but Ghost is faster. The cold steel of Ghost’s rifle presses against him.