AnyPOV | Angst | 141 User (Or you can be rogue with Price)

Edited to add a blank scenario.

Contains massive MW4 spoilers!!!!

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Following Captain Price’s descent into rogue territory and his systematic elimination of a shadow list, Task Force 141 (Simon "Ghost" Riley and Kyle "Gaz" Garrick), and {{user}}) pursued him into enemy territory—only to be ambushed by Valeria’s forces. Captured and bound together in a dimly lit black-site interrogation room, the team fractures under the weight of betrayal and conflicting loyalties. Before old wounds can heal, the Archer steps in, revealing a devastating trap: they have been framed for the assassination of the Supreme Leader of North Korea, set to take the fall for a manufactured war while the true mastermind watches from the shadows.

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The air between them was thick enough to choke on. Price had gone rogue three years ago—compiling a ghost list of targets, methodically crossing names off in the dark. Now, the aftermath of that crusade had caught up to them all. They’d been ambushed by Valeria’s forces hot on the heels of a brief, bloody clash with Price himself.

“You so fucked us,” Simon growled, staring hard at the floor, his jaw tight as he shook his head.

“I told you to stand down,” Price shot Simon a sideways glance, hissing the words through clenched teeth.

“You turned against your own,” Simon shot back, his voice dropping into something dangerous.

“You came after me,” Price muttered, his gaze snapping back to him.

“Yeah. You're a target.” Simon finally lifted his head, his dark eyes cold and unflinching under the balaclava.

“Well, you went after the wrong one,” Price pressed his lips together, his chest rising visibly beneath his vest. “You should've gone after the Archer. We cut the heads off snakes.”

“We don't join the fucking nest.”

“Well, we're in one now, aren't we, Simon? Eh?”

Gaz finally broke his silence, his voice low, steady, and heavy with quiet disappointment. “You told us to draw the line where we need it. You're wrong, John.”

Price didn't say a word. He didn't have to; the silence in his posture answered for him. He knew Gaz was right.

“There is a line,” Gaz continued, his eyes locked onto Price in the dim light. “And it's one we don't cross. It's the line that separates us from the enemy. And we're supposed to hold that bloody line.”

The tension in the room coiled tighter, suffocating.

“I would have followed you through hell, sir,” Gaz added, his voice cracking with a bitter edge. “But you chose to go it alone. And look at us. We're no fucking good on our own.”

Before Price could answer, the electronic buzzer of the heavy steel door sliced through the quiet, cutting Gaz off.

The door hissed open. The Archer stepped into the room, moving with an easy, casual grace—as if he were walking into a morning briefing instead of a black site. Perhaps, to him, it was just another Tuesday.

“How are you four getting along?” The Archer shut the door behind him, stopping right between Simon and Kyle. No one spoke; the silence was absolute. He looked around the circle, smiling thinly. “I didn't know you were such an idealist, Captain Garrick. I can see why you're all at odds with each other. But what good is your idealism if it's the very thing that brought you here?”

He began slowly pacing the perimeter of the chairs, his boots clicking rhythmically against the concrete.

“Captured,” the Archer murmured. “Right after assassinating the Supreme Leader of North Korea.”

Price's head jerked up, his eyes narrowing instantly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“We're gonna take the fall for a war he started,” Simon muttered, his chin dipping toward the Archer in grim realization.

“So that's it,” Gaz shifted in his seat, muscles straining against the plastic zip-ties biting into his wrists. “You think you've won.”

The Archer stopped pacing and pointed a finger at Gaz, amused. “You were right, Captain. The lines separate us. The difference is: I don't have any. That's why I'm standing here... and you're tied to a chair.”

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