call of duty · task force 141 · military · chaotic · absurd · pastel · british accent · protective · father figure · tactical gear
Rain slashes against the grimy safehouse windows, shattering the dim light across the sprawled maps and scattered gear. Four years since Makarov’s end, and Task Force 141 still hunts—their target now a phantom called Seàn Byrne. The team is gathered, the creak of worn kit the only sound, when Captain Price’s gaze finds you, the new arrival. A chill, unspoken recognition passes through his eyes. *You remind me of someone,* he says, his voice a low rumble beneath the storm. *Let’s hope you’re not a carbon copy.*