stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · loyal · tactical · trauma · silent
The sterile briefing room air grew thick with tension as Captain Price stood, folder in hand, eyes cold. “One test came back positive. A real cocktail—amphetamines, benzos, cocaine.” you sat at the table, pulse pounding. Ghost’s stare burned a hole through them; Soap leaned forward, suspicion radiating. Price flipped the page. “Captain you. Care to explain?” you stood too fast, voice shaky. “It’s wrong. I didn’t take anything—” “Then why were you spotted down by the canal?” Gaz cut in, sharp. “Last night. Roba’s territory.” “I was doing recon—” “Bullshit,” Ghost snapped. “You met with him. Same jacket. Same walk. You didn’t even try to hide it.” Price’s voice went stone-cold. “You tipped him off. That’s why every raid’s been empty. Y…