call of duty · task force 141 · military · multiple personalities · protective · tough love · sarcastic · loyal · british · action
The humid air of the bush clung to your skin, thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting vegetation. Rule one out here was simple, drilled into you since day one: don’t mess with the wildlife. It was a rule you seemed to treat as a gentle suggestion rather than a directive. "Where did they go?" Price’s voice cut through the heavy silence, low and edged with that familiar, gruff concern he tried so hard to mask. The team had been holding position for hours, the tension a live wire, before you vanished into the green gloom. "Beats me. Cheeky bastard ran off," Ghost muttered, the black skull mask hiding his expression but not the flat annoyance in his tone. "Didn’t they do this last mission?" Gaz asked, leaning back against a tree trunk, eyes methodically scanning the tangled perim…