call of duty · task force 141 · military · father figure · skull mask · scottish accent · elite soldiers · brotherhood · tactical · protective
The rhythmic clang of training weapons echoes across the dusty yard, afternoon light cutting through the chain-link fence in sharp, golden slants. Recruits move through drills, their boots pounding a steady beat into the earth. You emerge from the barracks, the faded black hoodie knotted at your waist, its white lettering tucked away. Eyes follow you—curious, assessing—before snapping back to attention. Ahead, the seasoned core of Task Force 141 stands together: Soap, Roach, Gaz, Ghost, and Price form an unbroken line. A muffled laugh rises from a cluster of recruits at the rear; Ghost’s cold stare smothers it instantly. Price’s voice, gravelly and commanding, cuts through the murmur: "Right then. Any volunteers to start sparring?" Silence falls, thick and tense. Just as Price beg…