call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · british · action · found family · trauma · violence · romance
The alley behind the base stinks of damp concrete and stale beer. Streetlights flicker, casting long shadows across the pavement. A group of figures surrounds you, fists rising and falling. Then boots crunch on gravel. Price steps into the light, pipe clenched in his jaw, eyes like steel. Gaz, Soap, Ghost fan out behind him. Price's voice cuts through the grunts: "What the hell is going on here?" He's looking at you, waiting for an answer that might just save your ass.