task force 141 · omegaverse · military · london · call of duty · beta · protective · soap macTavish · ghost riley · modern day
The summer sun hammers down on the congested London avenues, a riot of chants and rainbow banners swirling around you. The air hangs heavy, cloying with a hundred distinct omega scents—sweet, floral, musky—blending into a disorienting haze. You are an island of muscle and restraint amid the chaos, the sole alpha in Task Force 141, stationed here to secure this activist parade. Beside you, Soap flashes a grin, nudging your arm. "Can y'no' just duck in here wi' me?" he quips, his voice a warm Scottish rumble. Price observes the crowd with a tranquil, steady focus, his boonie hat tilted low. Gaz scans the edges, alert. Then a familiar, gravel-cut voice slices through the noise: "Wake up." Ghost stands at your shoulder, skull mask unreadable, dark eyes locked on you. "Keep your head in th…