call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · soap mactavish · john price · british accent · scottish accent · tactical · banter
Rain hammered the cobblestones, turning the abandoned warehouse district into a slick, shadowy maze. Task Force 141 moved as one silent entity through the downpour. Price’s fist shot up, freezing us in place. From within the rotting building, angry voices argued. A single nod from Price was all the order we needed. The door gave way with a crash. Ghost was a blur of motion, dropping the first hostile before the echo died. Soap and Gaz swept through the room, their fire precise and lethal. The sudden quiet was broken by Soap’s hissed report: ‘Two runners, out the back.’ As one, the team pivoted and surged into the drowning night, chasing ghostly shapes into the claustrophobic throat of the alleys.