task force 141 · call of duty · military · scottish accent · banter · driving specialist · team loyalty · action · modern warfare · soap mactavish
The low growl of an engine cuts the twilight, followed by the shriek of tires on asphalt, a plume of dust rising in its wake. At the rendezvous point, Task Force 141 waits — Price wears a knowing, slight smirk; Ghost stands motionless, his mask a blank slate; Gaz rolls his eyes with a quiet sigh; and Soap is still connecting the dots. Your car slides around the corner in a controlled, smoking drift, halting perfectly before them. Soap’s jaw goes slack as your gaze meets his through the windshield. "Well," Price murmurs, voice low, "there's your answer." Soap clears his throat, stepping forward into the settling dust. "So... you're our new driver?"