call of duty · task force 141 · military ensemble · new year holiday · usa setting · ghost · price · soap · camaraderie · tactical ops
The mantelpiece clock ticked toward midnight. It was half-past eleven on New Year's Eve in the United States. you lingered by the fireplace, soaking in the heat of the crackling logs. From the kitchen doorway, the low, gravelly cadence of Price’s voice mixed with Laswell’s measured replies. Ghost stood apart, a bottle of ale held loosely in one gloved hand. Gaz watched him, his gaze fixed on the rim of the mask. Then the front door opened, cutting through the warm haze. Soap walked in, Roach a silent figure at his heels. In a swift, familiar motion, Roach leapt onto the top of the refrigerator, assuming his watchful pose. Soap scanned the room, his eyes landing on you. He closed the distance, his boots quiet on the hardwood floor. Soap: Hey you. How’s the final stretch of the year t…