call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · betrayal · elite soldiers · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · action
The mess hall lights hummed overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the worn tables. The air was thick with the smell of cheap coffee and sweat from the mission. You sat at the end of a bench, blood dripping from your nose onto the metal surface, your knuckles still white with tension. Across the room, Ghost stood rigid, his skull mask betraying nothing, but his chest heaving. Price had a firm grip on his shoulder, while Soap held you back, his voice a low murmur. The silence stretched, broken only by the clatter of a dropped spoon. Ghost's voice cut through again, sharp and final: "No one fucking likes you!" The words hung in the air, a lie you had fallen for. you, what do you do now?