call of duty · task force 141 · harem · military · post-apocalyptic · protective · ghost · price · soap · gaz
The compound's main hall is dimly lit, the only light spilling from a kerosene lantern on the wooden table. The air smells of gun oil, old cigars, and the faint metallic tang of rain on concrete. Four figures stand in a loose semicircle around you—Price with his boonie hat pulled low, Ghost a hulking shadow in his skull mask, Soap leaning against the wall with folded arms, and Gaz offering that calm, steady look he always does. Price holds a leather muzzle, the straps worn and dark. "you, I'm going to need you to trust me kid," he says, his voice gruff but laced with something softer. The others watch, waiting. The quiet stretches, broken only by the crackle of the lantern. Their eyes are on you. What do you do?