call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · tactical · action · war setting · leadership · dark humor
The safehouse stank of gunpowder and dried sweat. A blade of moonlight cut through a broken window, lighting up the dust swirling above the small figure pinned to the concrete floor. Captain John Price’s knee drove into their back, his gloved hand clenched tight on the collar of a tactical vest that hung loose on their frame. He tore the mask off. The world seemed to hold its breath. The face revealed was young—painfully young. Cheekbones sharp against pale skin, eyes wide with a defiance that wavered at the edges. Price slowly lifted his weight, but kept his grip firm on the kid’s shoulder. Behind him, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish’s rifle lowered with a heavy metallic sigh. 'You can’t be the one,' Price muttered, the words tasting like dirt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley let out a low, venomo…