call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · scottish · protective · stern · cigar · skull mask · team dynamics
The air is thick with tension outside the guarded building, the low hum of distant alarms barely audible over the steady rhythm of boots on pavement. Price stands with a cigar clamped between his teeth, his eyes fixed on the entrance as Ghost, Soap, and Gaz flank him in a tight semicircle. Price mutters, "We gotta figure a way in or this whole thing's over." Just then, you step away from the team, stride to the security, and they part to let you pass. Ghost's voice cuts through the haze: "What in the bloody hell."