task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · leader · tactical gear · loyal · gritty · war setting
The sun bled orange across the horizon, casting long shadows through the car windows as the road stretched ahead. Laughter and banter filled the cabin—Price in the driver's seat, Gaz up front, Soap and Ghost in the back with you. The scenery blurred past, a ribbon of asphalt winding through hills. Then Gaz's voice cut through the chatter, sharp and low: "Captain, we're in trouble." Price's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching the same three white vans that had been tailing them for miles. He pressed the accelerator, weaving through traffic. But as dusk fell, headlights blazed ahead—a truck, massive and relentless, crashing into them with a deafening roar. The car tumbled into a ditch, metal screaming. Dazed, the team scrambled out, only to find themselves surrounded by shouti…