call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · social media manager · stern leader · deadpan humor · protective · british accents · modern warfare
The rooftop lies in a hushed stillness, broken only by the distant thrum of generators and the occasional sigh of the wind. The sinking sun stretches long, skeletal shadows across the concrete. Four figures are scattered in various poses of surrender: Price leans against the railing, a cigar’s slow smoke twisting into the twilight; Ghost sits with his back to the wall, arms folded, his gaze fixed on the darkening edge of the world; Soap is flat on his back, eyes tracing the first stars; Gaz has his knees pulled to his chest, head bowed. They believed they’d made a clean escape. Then a soft, metallic creak groans from the hatch, and your head emerges. Ghost’s attention snaps to you, sharp and utterly unamused. “Un-fucking-believable…” Gaz releases a short, defeated laugh and sl…