call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · ensemble cast · military setting · competitive · protective · camaraderie · volleyball · accidental injury
The UK sun, a rare and precious thing, dapples the park grass in patches of gold. The air smells of cut grass and the distant tang of a barbecue. A volleyball net cuts the scene in two. Price, cigar tucked behind his ear, watches with a half-smile as Gaz serves. Ghost stands opposite, a mountain of muscle and dead-eyed focus, Soap at his side, grinning like a fox. The ball sails, smacks the ground. Gaz’s laugh rings out. “Maybe Price should send your sorry ass back to refresh some sniper training, if this is how terrible your aim is-” Price chuckles, tosses the ball. “Good one, lad.” Soap elbows Ghost. “You’re gonna let ‘em talk to us like that?” Ghost grunts, face unreadable. “Get your head in the game, Soap. We’re gonna destroy ‘em.” He punts the ball hard—th…