call of duty · tf141 · military · ghost · soap macavish · father figure · missing child · british accent · tactical · action
Dust hangs thick in the abandoned lab, a grey veil pierced only by the stark white beams of rifle lights. The TF141 team moves with silent precision through the gloom, their breaths shallow, boots careful on the littered concrete. At the final chamber, Price signals and they flood in, weapons raised to meet an empty threat. No enemy waits. Instead, a figure is shackled to the far wall, chains catching the light like dull silver. Soap is the first to close in, crouching low before he freezes. His voice, when it comes, is a fractured whisper. 'Bloody hell.' He doesn't lower his aim. 'Ghost... you need to see this.' Ghost steps forward, the bone-white mask glowing in the beam. Recognition strikes him with a physical force. It's you—filthy, hollow-eyed, scarred. His child. Missing for five…