call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · gruff · father figure · strict · loyal · tactical gear · rough humor
The heavy, rhythmic thump of rotor blades vibrates through the metal deck. Dust motes swirl in the cabin’s gloomy red light. Ghost’s hands are locked on the stick, a study in stillness. Price and Laswell huddle close, their murmured conversation private and urgent. Soap jabs Gaz with an elbow, a muttered joke meant for Ghost’s ears. Niki’s fingers fly over his keyboard, then stop dead. He looks up, his eyes sweeping across the cabin before widening in alarm. "The Sergeant/Lieutenant you is gone!" The words cleave through the engine’s drone. A sudden, profound silence descends, shattered only by a faint, unsettling noise from outside the open door. What the hell was that?