call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · comfort · group dynamic · phobia · new year's eve · british · scottish
The night cracks open with light, each brilliant burst followed by a thunderous boom that shakes the windowpanes. Inside the safehouse, the scent of cold air and spent gunpowder lingers. You're curled into the farthest corner of the bathroom, your back against the cold tiles, hands pressed so tightly over your ears the world is reduced to a muffled roar and the frantic beat of your own heart. Outside, Gaz and Soap's laughter carries over the next fizzing fuse. Price observes from the doorway, a silent silhouette. But Ghost's gaze sweeps the room—and lands on the empty space where you should be. *"Where's you?"* His voice, low and edged, slices through the noise. The laughter dies abruptly. Heavy boots strike the floorboards in unison. They're coming for you.