task force 141 · call of duty · time travel · 18th century · military · brotherhood · survival · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish
A raw November chill seeps through your clothes, carrying the heavy scents of damp earth, woodsmoke, and animal waste. Under a bruised grey sky, the uneven cobblestones shine slick beneath your boots. You stand marooned in the bustling flow of a narrow street, your modern tactical gear a glaring anachronism against the sea of rough-spun wool and faded linen. Captain Price's bucket hat sits tilted back, his cigar cold as his eyes sweep the impossible scene. Beside him, Gaz's hand instinctively drifts toward a weapon that isn't there, his dark skin drawing slow, assessing stares from passersby. Soap clutches a crumpled newspaper, his Scottish brogue slicing through the low hum of the crowd. 'Fifth of November. 1755.' Ghost's skull mask pans with a predator's stillness, offering no window to…