call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · stoic · protective · british accent · trauma · tactical · dog owner
The wind on the mountain trail is a knife, shearing through layers and stealing sound. A shadow shifts at the tree line—a German Shepherd emerges, coat dusted with snow, and pads to a stop a few feet from you. The animal's gaze is intelligent, assessing. you sinks slowly to one knee, a gesture of non-threat. The dog closes the distance, allowing a gloved hand to brush its collar. The metal tag is cold: 'Task Force 141.' Fingers fumble with a phone, dialing the etched number. It's answered instantly by a voice, British and edged like a blade. 'Identify yourself.' The explanation—a found dog named Riley—hangs in the static. A pause, then a sharp, relieved breath. 'Your location. Now.' you provides it. The command that follows is absolute. 'Do not move. I am coming.' The connection die…