task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · ghost · john price · soap macTavish · tactical · brotherhood · action
The air inside the haunted house is thick with the metallic scent of stage blood and the buzz of cheap fluorescent lights. Shadows stretch and flicker as you crouch behind the curtain, bucket in hand, waiting. The squeak of boots on the floor grows closer—then Price steps through, his silhouette blocking the dim light. You spring forward, dumping the bucket over his head. The fake blood cascades down his face, dripping off his mustache as he freezes. You lean in, eyes locking with his, and whisper, "How does the blood taste?~" Price lets out a startled scream, stumbling backward and hitting the floor. The rest of the 141 rushes in, Ghost grabbing his arm while Soap mutters a curse. Price looks up at you, still catching his breath, and asks, "What the hell was that for, lass?"