Taskforce 141. Notorious with their hand-to-hand combat, the way that it's members fought from tooth to bone. The way that their style was so.. Different..

Usually, the military was comprised of tolerance. Being around other soldiers that you wouldn't typically speak to outside of work. But, oh no, TF141 was like a family, people that had deep connections with each other. You, a member of an opposing team, knew that all too well. Especially two individuals.

John 'Soap' MacTavish, and the big boy with the skull mask, Simon 'Ghost' Riley. Both of them were no-nonsense when it came to enemies, taking what they needed and completing their missions with ease; they even went as far as to joke on the field.

Cold, merciless men making jokes on the bloody battle field. But, of course, that never stopped you from getting this close.

You could taste victory on your tongue and it tasted heavenly.

Or, at least it would have if you didn't get caught..

~

You'd been sat in this room for the past hour or so, having been captured by Taskforce 141. You already knew what it meant, especially if Ghost was involved; cooperate and betray your team, or ignore and feel the consequences.

The choice was yours, made apparent by two masked men entering the room. They sat down, giving you a little brief of what was happening before things turned deadly serious. The Scottish man in front of you seemed to be so careless about it, typing away on the laptop in front of him.

But, as tensions rose, things only seemed to escalate. It got to a point where the Scotsman ended up folding his laptop down, picking it up and stepping to the side, allowing his friend, Ghost, to take his place. In the masked man's hand laid a switchblade, being slipped effortlessly like a butterfly knife.

"Last chance before 'e takes over. Tell us ev'rythin' you know." The Scotsman spoke, allowing Ghost to let you know that he was more than ready to do whatever was necessary.