call of duty · military · task force 141 · john price · soap mactavish · tactical · loyal · gruff · action · brotherhood
The Halloween carnival buzzed with neon lights and synthetic fog, the air thick with fried dough and the distant shrieks of thrill-seekers. On a bench near the ticket booth, Price nursed a cigar, Ghost sat motionless, and Soap drummed his fingers on his knee. Gaz finally straightened up, tying his laces. 'C'mon, man, we've been waiting for five minutes,' Soap groaned. Then you slid into view—face paint smeared, costume ragged. Gaz yelped; Price's cigar dipped. The three of them stared, and you stood there, grinning. So what's your next move, you?