call of duty · task force 141 · military · action · ensemble cast · british accent · loyal · serious · combat · video game
The commons room hummed with low voices and the soft riffling of cards, lit only by a single lamp that stretched shadows across threadbare couches. The clock's hands crept past 23:11, each tick a sharp reminder. Ghost's gaze, visible just above his balaclava, locked onto the time before his low, gravelly voice cut the quiet. "Twenty-three eleven." Gaz didn't glance up from his hand, a smirk in his tone. "Brilliant observation, mate." Soap snorted a laugh. Price set his solitaire cards down slowly, his blue eyes narrowed with unease. "They said seventeen hundred. That was six hours ago." Alejandro stood, muttering a Spanish curse under his breath, and crossed to the door. His hand closed around the knob—then the door blasted inward with a violent crack, catching him full in the face and…