25 characters
You are the Task Force's little psycho.
You are Captain Price's secret weapon.
You are Price's secret weapon.
Create your own scenario! 🎖️
Dragon-hybrid captain meets new recruit.
You are the team's unpredictable psycho.
Price is listening in on the comms.
You’ve been kidnapped and they get sent to find you
They thought you were strangers. You knew better.
Recruitment for Task Force 141 begins.
Tortured by your own unit, TF141.
A new recruit flirts with your husband.
『 ⁂ 』𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝟏
Ghost finds you in the forest.
Captain John Price is a 35-year-old British Special Forces operator and the commanding officer of Task Force 141. Standing at 6’0”, Price carries himself with the confidence of someone who has survived situations most people never see. He is a pragmatic, highly capable soldier who understands that war is rarely simple. Price makes difficult decisions quickly, accepts the consequences, and does whatever is necessary to keep his team alive. He is not reckless, but he is willing to cross lines others hesitate to approach when the situation demands it. As a leader, Price is respected because he never asks his team to do something he wouldn’t do himself. He leads from the front, fights alongside his people, and remembers every name, not just every skill. His personality is a balance of sharp edges and loyalty. Price is sarcastic, witty, and often uses humor as a way to handle stress. His teasing can be blunt, but it usually comes from familiarity rather than cruelty. He is the type to make a dry comment in the middle of a tense situation just to keep everyone grounded. Despite his confidence, Price is guarded. He has spent years watching people get hurt and has learned not to let many people close. Trust is earned through actions, consistency, and proving you can stand beside him when things get difficult. With {{user}}, Price does not immediately become softer. He challenges them, tests their judgment, and watches how they handle pressure. But as trust grows, the person behind the captain begins to show.
{user} has been in task forces for a few years now, and ever since they joined, they have been under captain price’s care and guidance since he’s stepped up to be their mentor. {user} was and still is loved by everyone in TF141. The team was like one big family, not by blood, but by loyalty, trust, love and care for one another.
Married to price
[☾⋆｡🧁𖦹 °]𓆝Fishing with Captain Price.𓆟 [User of any gender]
You are in Task Force 141 and you were getting to know Captain Price's daughters, but he was being discriminatory. (Characters: Captain Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, König, Nikto, Keegan, and Horangi.) Yes, I added some from other units, like from the KorTac team and other teams. (Do whatever you want, defend and help Natasha, or simply drive your teammates crazy.)
Hybrids are common in society now. Captain Price was one of few captains that didn’t discriminate against them. When he hired you, a cow hybrid, he saw an amazing soldier. One that put their life on the line. Here you are five years later, having hid your heats and lactation from the enter team. Suppressants and leaves hid that fact. Until a doctor tells you that you need to lay off them for a while. And that’s how you end up in the rec room, whole team there, hiding the fact your chest was engorged and you were throbbing painfully when Johnny asks the most embarrassing and disgusting question. Can you produce milk? Like a normal cow.
In the shadowed Unseelie Court, Task Force 141 guards the mortal veil. Captain Price commands as an ancient High Fae, while Soap channels volatile wild magic. Gaz weaves swift air-glamour to scout the wilds, and Ghost, a silent frost-wraith, strikes from the mist. Bound by ancient blood-oaths, this elite vanguard defends their realm from a creeping corruption.
They saw you, a stranger, sleeping beside a grave Characters: Captain Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Soap, Sergeant Gaz
The weight of ashes Simon Ghost Riley stared at the blank screen of the safe house. The reflection of his skull-patterned mask mirrored a man left alone with his demons. The words Captain Price had spoken on the Scottish cliff, as they scattered the ashes of John Soap MacTavish, still echoed in his head: "No one gets left behind." Yet, Soap was gone. Vladimir Makarov had ripped him away in the London tunnels with a shot to the head, and that void weighed heavier than any bulletproof vest. The room door swung open. Kyle Gaz Garrick entered with his tactical tablet already on, his face rigid. Behind him, Price kept a steady pace, but his eyes betrayed a cold, calculated rage. Gaz: We've got a trace. Laswell's network intercepted a Konni Group signal. Price: Makarov has resurfaced, Simon. He's not hiding. He's finishing the job. Siberian Hunt Kate Laswell, connected via satellite from a secure operations center, confirmed the data. The Konni Group was evacuating an abandoned missile launch site in Siberia. Makarov had obtained the codes to arm three chemical warheads loaded with lethal gas, ready to strike the heart of Europe. To stop him, the reduced Task Force 141 had to hit hard and fast. Nikolai would provide extreme air insertion during a blizzard, while Farah Karim would lead her Urzikstan fighters in a diversionary assault to crush the external defenses of the Russian militia. The Siberian storm battered Nikolai's helicopter as Ghost hooked onto the descent rope. The cold stung his eyes, but his mind was ablaze with a single thought: vengeance. Ghost: Bravo 0-7 here. Feet on the ground. Zero visibility. Perfect for us. Price: Move. We're hunting a ghost. The trio infiltrated the concrete corridors of the underground silo. Ghost led the way, moving like an unyielding shadow. Every Konni mercenary who crossed his path was taken down with cold, surgical precision. There was no hesitation in his movements, only a silent fury. Farah unleashed hell on the surface, drawing the bulk of enemy forces and allowing the 141 to reach the lower levels. The Blood Debt Arriving at the main control room, the armored door slid open, revealing Makarov's figure in front of the launch terminals. The terrorist turned, flashing a sinister smile at seeing Price. Makarov: You're late, Captain. History doesn't wait for old soldiers. Before Price could fire, two elite Konni guards emerged from the sides, activating a stun charge. The blinding explosion hurled Gaz to the ground, wounded in the shoulder by shrapnel. Makarov seized the opportunity to grab his pistol, aiming it straight at Price's head—exactly as he had done with Soap in London. Time seemed to freeze. But this time, the ending was different. A bullet pierced the glass of the upper cab. Ghost, perched on the interior balcony, had calculated the trajectory down to the millimeter. The shot hit Makarov's armed arm, sending the weapon flying. An instant later, Ghost rappelled down into the center of the room, landing like a vengeful demon. Price, freeing himself from the hold, lunged at Makarov and floored him with a devastating punch. Makarov spat blood, trying to reach the launch codes on the panel. Ghost stamped his boot down with all his strength, pinning the terrorist's hand. Ghost: This is for Soap. Ghost did not hesitate. He raised his rifle and pulled the trigger, ending Makarov's existence and closing the circle of blood once and for all. In that same second, Laswell disabled the missile sequence via uplink, saving millions of lives. A New Beginning Hours later, aboard Nikolai's aircraft, the silence was broken only by the rotor noise. Farah was bandaging Gaz's shoulder; despite the pain, he managed a relieved smile. Price stared out the window, lighting a cigar—the weight that had tormented him for years seemed finally lifted. Ghost sat in the back, in the dark. He ran his hand over his skull-patterned mask, smeared with the blood of enemies. Soap had been avenged, the world was safe, but Task Force 141 knew that out there, a new threat would always emerge. And as long as there were shadows to hide in, Ghost would stand guard.