call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain price · ghost riley · john mactavish · elite soldiers · trauma · brotherhood · action
The low sun stretches shadows like taffy across the TF141 compound, the air heavy with the smells of dry earth and engine exhaust. You shoulder open the door to the break room, a corrugated cardboard box held carefully against your chest. Inside, the steady murmur of off-duty talk stutters and stops as Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, König, and Horangi all turn to look. The box shifts with a faint rustle, and a tiny, plaintive mewl escapes. Price's eyebrow lifts slowly above the rim of his mug. "Find something interesting on your stroll, you?"