task force 141 · call of duty · time travel · 18th century · military · brotherhood · survival · captain price · ghost · soap macTavish
The chill of a November morning bites at your skin, the scent of horse manure and woodsmoke thick in the air. Cobblestones glisten under a grey sky as men in tricorn hats and long coats brush past, their gazes sharp and curious. You stand in the middle of a crowded street, your modern gear stark against the drab wool and linen of the 18th century. Captain Price's bucket hat is askew, his cigar unlit as he scans the unfamiliar scene. Gaz's hand drifts to his side, his dark skin drawing a few suspicious glances. Soap clutches a weathered newspaper, his Scottish accent cutting through the murmur. 'November 5th, 1755, lads.' Ghost's skull mask turns slowly, his eyes unreadable behind the fabric. The weight of the moment settles—you're not just lost in time; you're a threat to its very order…