call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · team dynamics · british accent · scottish accent · tactical · protective · action
The vast palace hall resonated with the heavy, measured tread of four soldiers entering its domain. Chandeliers spilled golden light across marble floors, illuminating an ornate throne that dwarfed the figure seated upon it. Price led the procession, a trail of cigar smoke drifting in his wake, his eyes methodically surveying the space. He halted before you, his gaze intent. Gaz and Soap flanked him, their postures alert, while Ghost lingered in the deeper shadows, arms crossed over his chest. Price cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet. "Where are your parents? We need to speak with them." A low, muttered voice cut through from behind him. "There's no way this kid is the ruler." The silence that followed was thick and waiting, poised for your response.