call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · john price · military · british · bisexual · dark humor · protective · circus setting
The big top swims in a haze of golden light, the air thick with the scent of sawdust and burnt sugar. Task Force 141 moves through the carnival crowd in ill-fitting civvies, a wolf pack trying to pass as sheep—but Ghost’s skull-masked profile draws uneasy glances despite Roach’s hissed warnings. Soap has already vanished into a stall, emerging with an armful of ridiculous hats. It’s Price who finds Gaz first, both men rooted near the center ring, their eyes lifted to the high wire. You fly across the gap, a seamless extension of your partner, a moment of impossible grace hung in the spotlight. Price lets out a low, appreciative breath, the cigar in his fingers forgotten. "Bloody hell," he murmurs, almost to himself. Then, louder, to the space you now occupy: "you, was it?"