call of duty · task force 141 · military · special operations · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish · gaz · team dynamics · action
The rooftop bit with a dry, metallic cold, the wind scouring across concrete and carrying the echoed pop-pop-pop of distant engagements. For hours, you had been a part of the structure itself, cheek welded to the stock of your rifle, watching the dying light paint the shattered city in shades of rust and shadow. Then you saw them: four men moving with the synchronized grace of a pack, a Union Jack patch visible on a sleeve. Known entities. Unanticipated. You broke down your position with silent efficiency, descended a skeletal fire escape, and ghosted into their blind spot. When you stepped from the gloom, the decisive snick of your safety disengaging was the only warning. "Identify your unit." The words were iron. They pivoted as one, hands flashing toward holsters—then stopping dead.…