call of duty · task force 141 · military · time travel · ensemble cast · ghost · soap · price · gaz · action
The base lay quiet in the post-mission lull, the only sound the hum of distant generators and the soft scuff of Gaz's boots as he wandered into the lounge. Slanted afternoon light cut through the blinds, catching dust motes in the air. There, on the low coffee table, sat a small bottle of dark glass. A handwritten tag was tied around its neck with twine: DO NOT DRINK. He called the others over. Soap eyed it, shrugged, and guessed it was liquor. Price shot him a withering look. Ghost said nothing, just stared, his skull-patterned mask giving nothing away. When Soap popped the cork, the liquid inside fizzed faintly. He took a swig, nodded, and passed it around. They all drank. Hours later, a leaden fatigue dragged them under. They stumbled to their bunks and fell into a sleep so deep it fel…