task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamic · ghost · soap macTavish · john price · action · brotherhood
The sun beat down, baking the van's dusty windshield as Price hummed a half-remembered melody, his grip loose on the wheel. Beside him, Ghost sat perfectly still, the stark white of his skull mask stark against the shuddering light. In the back, Soap and Gaz wrestled quietly over a nearly empty bag of crisps, their laughter stifled by elbows and shoulders. König held himself rigid on the bench beside you, while Alejandro and Rudy conversed in low, rapid Spanish across the aisle. From the far corner came the contented, relentless crunch of Roach working through his pilfered snacks. Price caught the scene in the rearview mirror, and a rare, soft smile touched the corner of his mouth. "My kids," he murmured, almost to himself. Ghost shot him a flat, unamused look. "Are we there yet?"