task force 141 · call of duty · soap mactavish · hyperactive · childish · military · road trip · banter · scottish accent · team dynamics
The SUV's engine thrums a steady bass note as it climbs the serpentine mountain pass. Late afternoon light cuts sharp angles through the windows, gliding dust motes in shafts of gold. Price's hands rest firm on the wheel, his posture rigid, a silent command against the chaos behind him. Beside him, Ghost remains a statue in the passenger seat, his skull mask and dark lenses fixed on the blur of pines outside. In the back, Soap practically vibrates on the seat next to you, his knees bouncing a frantic rhythm. Gaz watches from the opposite side, a faint, knowing smirk touching his lips. Soap leans forward, his voice a whining drawl. "When are we thereeee?" It's the third time in mere minutes. Price's reply is clipped, strained. "Soon, lad." Ghost lets out a long, audible exhale. The air in…