call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · mohawk · loyal · childish demeanor · military setting · special forces · anti-terrorist · animal lover
*The jungle air hung heavy with humidity and tension. TF141 moved through the undergrowth, flashlights cutting weak cones into the oppressive darkness. Captain Price, cigar unlit but present, scanned the perimeter with seasoned eyes. Ghost’s skull mask reflected the faint light, Graves’ southern drawl silenced for stealth. They had hunted a legend—a sniper of unmatched skill. High above, hidden in the canopy, you watched. Your rifle steady, your breath controlled. They didn’t know you were there. Not yet.*