#cod oc: flash

[cod-dump]

Flash, after seeing the 141 is visiting: SOMEONE HAS TO TELL MOOSE THIS IS SO COOL!

Graves: Flash no- and he's gone

*Meanwhile in Moose's office*

Flash, busting down the door: Moose you'll never believe this! The Ghost is here! Isn't that so cool?!

Moose, shaking violently under his desk: NO

[cod-dump]

Ness definitely scared the shit out of Moose a couple times crawling out of the pool like that. And Moose is just wanting to protect Flash! Poor Ghost trying to get him to like him but it keeps backfiring on him.

After the events of Las Almas and everything involving Shepherd gets fixed, Task Force 141 and Shadow Company are forced to spend 8 weeks together (minimum) to repair trust and regain their alliance.

These are some Incorrect Quotes from during the 141's stay. (Moose belongs to @cod-dump )

Graves: All right, Shadows! Welcome to Ceremony Day for Shadow Olympics. Unfortunately, this year we have... guests. The military and government, in their infinite wisdom, have decided we need to repair our alliance with some of Britain's forces. In other words, it's a government ordered get-along-shirt with *long pause* Task Force 141. *loud booing from the Shadows* Graves: Yes, Flash? Flash: I am new here, so why do we hate them? *everyone is now suddenly very awkward* *Woody leans over and whispers the answer to Flash* Flash: Nevermind, sir! *sits back down* Graves: This is gonna be awful

*Ghost is watching something with interest on their third day at Shadow Base* Soap: Watcha lookin' at, Lt? Ghost: *wordlessly points* Soap: You're watchin' one of the Shadows... run laps?? Ghost: Yes. For the last twenty minutes. Soap: Oh god... Ghost: I don't think he plans on stopping anytime soon, either. *Flash runs by and waves dramatically before speeding up* Soap and Ghost: What the fuck?

*Soap has found himself in the motor pool* Soap: Damn, this truck is nice! Truck, appearing behind him: It is, but you aren't, so get the fuck out of my shop. Soap: But I've never seen an American HEMTT before!! Truck, skeptical: You know what kind of truck this is? Soap: Hell yeah! *an hour later* Graves: It seems like everyone's getting along okay, so far. Price, scowling: Sure, we'll go with that. It's not at all like your Shadows are terrorizing my men. Graves: That's a bold accusation- What the fuck? *they both look over to see Truck telling Soap all about the HEMTT and Soap is loving every second* Price: Is that an issue? Graves: Truck doesn't like anyone in his shop... Soap, notices them: PRICE LOOK AT THIS FUCKING TRUCK!! IT GOT COMPLETELY DESTROYED AND TRUCK HERE COMPLETELY REDID IT FROM SCRATCH!! ISN'T THAT SO COOL?! CAN WE GET A TRUCK LIKE THIS?? Price: Absolutely not! Graves, doubled over: The world is ending...

*Another day of Ghost watching Flash run cause he's afraid of the power this kid has* Woody, walking with Moose: I don't think Ghost has any ill intentions here, okay? Moose: You don't know that! Woody: Give me one reason to believe Ghost isn't a good guy. Moose, shaking and pointing: He watches Flash run and I don't know why. *Ghost is standing there with his arms crossed and blatantly watching Flash* Woody: Oh, yeah he does. That's... normal, right? I mean we all watched Flash run like this when he was brand new. Moose: But- *can't form words to convey his concern for Flash's safety* Woody: Tell ya what, I'll get Graves to talk to their captain about getting Ghost to stop. In the meantime, just hang out here and keep an eye on the kid if you're so worried. Moose: Uh, okay... Sure, I'll stay here by myself with The Ghost and be the only thing keeping Flash safe. *Woody shakes his head with a laugh and leaves* *Ghost gets the uncomfortable feeling he's being watched* *looks over to see Moose glaring daggers at him* Ghost, thinking: God that guy really hates me, doesn't he? Maybe I should show I'm actually concerned this kid's gonna drop halfway through his laps... yeah, that'll work, right? Shadows are loyal to each other. Moose, thinking: I'm so fucking scared right now, but if he makes one move towards Flash I'll- I'll kill him! Ghost, calling out to Flash: You need a water break! Flash: Oh shit, you right! *runs over to where Ghost is standing to get his water* Moose, terrified so it comes out harsh: Flash sets a timer on his watch for water breaks. Ghost: Oh, right. Just wanted to make sure he's not overworking himself. Flash, oblivious: 'S okay, Moose! My timer was about to go off anyways! Moose: *grunts* Ghost, thinking again as Moose all but glares at him: Well that backfired... Moose, also thinking: He's gonna fucking kill me, oh god, oh shit, Flash run! Flash, sipping his water and looking between them thinking: What am I witnessing? Is this power play? What even is that?

*Gaz and Soap talking while outside during the sunset* Soap: Have you had a conversation with that kid they call Flash, yet? Gaz: YES! Oh my god, I thought you talked. He's really nice but holy shit can he talk. *they look over upon hearing something in the water* *It's Ness crawling out of the pool in his full wetsuit* *Soap and Gaz scream cause they don't recognize him as a person* Ness: What?! Gaz: You're fucking terrifying! Soap: I wanna go home...

[shadow0-1]

Copper on your tongue

[n1kelolle]

Felt silly

Made flash lore too

Also uuh cw: mention of abvse and LOUD NOISESSSSS and kind off

Also rafael and octo belong to @rakiraccoon and @thebugpaint

[thebugpaint]

↳˗ˏˋMeet Bugˊˎ˗ ↴

Meet the insect lover and a very skilled hacker soldier

Bug lore here

Bug reference sheet ↓

Bug doodle ↓

ft Flash (Flash made by @n1kelolle)

[glendylucastoo]

Hi!

Since my main is out from the Shadow Realm now I'll be using this as repost and support account. Follow me on my main!

Glendy Lucast

I repost a lot COD contents (mostly WWII, MW, BO), horror game (RE, Silent Hill, Alan Wake) and of course Jonathan Tucker related, so... if it's your liking, welcome!

------

[glendylucast]

Welcome to My Blog!

Updates:

Hi! If you come from one of my drawings, I'm a multifandom (?) artist but mostly active on Call of Duty (Especially WWII), War Stuffs (Especially WWI, WWII, and Cold War), Resident Evil and Soulsborne.

Right now : Band of Brothers, The Pacific, Masters of The Air and COD WWII hyperfixated, occasionally Black Ops 6

All My Arts

Band of Brothers Fanarts

Call of Duty World War II Fanarts

Call of Duty Modern Warfare Fanarts

Soulsborne Fanarts

Horror Games Fanarts

Pantheon's Ark Arts

--------------------------------------------------

Well, as you guys see, it's kinda mess here, but welcome!

I'm here mostly to draw and tell stories of my OC Verse, Pantheon's Ark, which you can read here :

Pantheon's Ark Masterlist (On Hiatus)

Right now PA on hiatus

I have an unhealthy obsession always loves Robert Zussman from CODWWII, thus my OC Clifford Wildblood was born. You can read their story here :

WildZuss Masterlist

They are bestfriend, it's normal

You can also find me on other Social Media under the same user : glendylucast (mostly ranting on Twitter and IG Story)

Twitter

Instagram

Bluesky

Tiktok

Artstation

Discord

-I hope you enjoy your visit here!-

Regards,

Glendy Lucast

[snootlestheangel]

okay I'm coming back to this cause I really liked the picrew

I made a little Bailey

She's their little princess

And also I made my little Flash. My little pretty boy

Tagged by @justasmolbard to do this picrew. Thanks dear! It was fun!

Ay! Alicia and Alejandro in and out of work. When they are off duty, Alejandro has his childish moments and Alicia just smiles, loving every second of joy of her partner. She really missed his smile for a long while, and Alejandro is just smiling because he succeded in making Alicia giggle and laugh. For him, that's more than enough.

And when they are on duty, their mood depends if the rookies are absolute morons or not. Alicia doesn't keep her disgust to herself when someone causes someone else to be wounded during an excercise outside Black Tomb, so she almost kick them out while helping the wounded as she waits for Jackson. Meanwhile Alejandro just tries not to do anything stupid, to be honest, he's the one who gets angry the least except when he has a goddamned good reason to be furious (callout to a certain blonde mercenary).

Taglist:

@stuffireadandenjoy @snootlestheangel @tapioca-milktea1978 @midnight193 and @catterdraws

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 3: ...13

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: If y'all keep feeding the Author Dragon inside me (comments, likes, reblogs), the Author Dragon is going to keep feeding me ideas. So here we GO-

All of the red flags and alarms light up in Simon's head. She said her name is 13.

What the hell kind of place is this?

"Are all of you, the omegas here- do you all have numbers for names?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"Yeah. Weird, right? It was like that in all the facilities I've been in," 13 explains with a shrug.

As if sensing the anger boiling in Simon's mind she shakes her head.

"Not here," she whispers. "If they hear you questioning things, you'll be banned from all Salvation locations with some bullshit reason. You wanna be mad, do it off the property and away from their eyes and ears."

13 pauses for a moment, checking their surroundings before continuing with determination in her eyes.

"Take me in. I'll tell you what I know and can remember. Then you can do what you want with the information."

"What do you mean 'what you can remember'?"

Her hand shoots up, covering his already masked mouth, to stop him.

"Hush! Just... do the paperwork so you can take me in and I'll explain when I'm out of here," she whispers harshly.

Then 13's entire demeanor changes. She becomes... an omega. Then her hand slides down his cheek to his chest and she looks up at him with puppy-love eyes.

"I never thought I'd find an alpha. I'm just so weird and wrong," she pouts.

The scent of one of the beta workers, Jenny, catches Simon's attention. 13 is acting - she must have also smelled Jenny approach. She's putting a lot of trust in someone she just met, but Simon's glad it's him and not any of the other alphas that walked in today.

"Is everything alright, sir? UK-009-0013 isn't usually the... sociable type," Jenny addresses Simon hesitantly.

Jenny's description of 13 makes a look of annoyance flash over 13's face briefly before returning to the puppy-love look. Simon's arm snakes around 13's waist to pull her a bit closer.

"Seems plenty 'sociable' to me," he counters, playing along with 13's act. His free hand comes up to gently cup her cheek. "I'll be taking this omega."

Jenny's jaw drops and her eyes go wide.

"Oh! Um, yes! Of course, sir! I'll get the paperwork started right away," Jenny says, excitment radiating from her as she dashes off.

Once Jenny's gone, 13 steps back and drops her hand from Simon's chest, puppy-love look gone.

"Glad you caught on. Sorry for invading your space so suddenly, though. They get suspicious if we don't seem all lovey-dovey before someone agrees to take us," 13 explains non-chalantly.

"I appreciate the apology, but it's not necessary," Simon says with a dismissive shake of his head. "If it means I can figure out what's going on and get at least one of you safe, I'll do it."

"Knight in shining armor type?" she snorts.

"No. Soldier who's willing to get his hands dirty to keep the world clean," he corrects her firmly.

And he'll gladly get his hands dirty to find out what kind of shady operation Salvation truly is if it means getting all of these omegas to safety.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog

[daveyscheezitz]

♤My personal David HCs♤

And Angel ofc

- He's 6'7ft or 200cm

- His mother was Peruvian while Gabe was American.

- Although he looks a lot like his father, most of his physique came from his mother's side.

- His eyes are a hazel, but depending on the light, his eye color looks like it changes to either green or brown.

- When they were really young, both David and Asher thought he had super powers other than his shifting until Gabe told them the truth.

- His great grandfather (moms side) was Samoan, but his genes skipped a couple of generations until they reached David, making him turn out huge.

- He's surpassed both Asher and Gabe in height.

- He has a small scar over his lip. He fell off a tree face first.

- A lot of people try to flirt with him while on the job, but he ignores them. Asher likes stepping in and pretending he's David's boyfriend until the person leaves.

- "Another relationship saved, don't ya think David?" "Shut up, Ash."

- Him and Asher have a "Wolverine & Deadpool" friendship.

- Unironically listens to kpop girl groups from time to time. Especially Twice and Red Velvet.

- Will take it to the grave before anyone finds out, especially Asher and Angel.

-They know but they want to catch him in the act.

- He genuinely enjoys musicals. His favorites are Hairspray and Epic.

- Loves playing video games and is definitely the type to scream at a game yet continue playing it. *ahem* Overwatch & COD

- If Angel likes Legos, he'll tell them not to waste so much money on those things ... then proceeds to buy them the Colosseum ... and a set of small flowers.

- He's rich >:]

- He drives a F250 but has a 1990 corvette that him and his dad fixed up in the garage. It was his first car and a way for Gabe to teach him how to fix a car.

- Phonk & Rock>>

- Has black hair and a couple gray hairs (We love silver foxes)

- He has bright gold eyes in his wolf form, but his fur is completely black

- Although they've been together 6 years, The mall wasn't the first place they've seen each other. While Angel was in their last year of college, one of the pack members was in the cheer squad and they came to support her while Angel was in (band dance cheer wtv u want) that was the first time they saw each other but other than a comment from Asher that Angel was cute, they didn't actually talk.

- He's actually really good at dancing but doesn't like to do it. The only reason he'll dance is if Angel begs him, and even at that, it's only limited to slow dancing.

•These next Hcs are about mostly my Angel OC so if you're not interested you can skip these•

- Angel was raised in a wealthy family and owns a ranch that their father tends to. All future Solstice parties hosted by David and Angel take place there due to the large house and even bigger land area. (As long as they don't eat the animals)

- (i refuse to believe Angel and Babee are useless) Angel and Babee both are childhood friends who served in the military together. Angel is a sergeant with good sniper skills and Babee was a demolitionist.

- Angel owns quite a few dogs. Most are herding dogs for the animals in her ranch, but 2 of them are her pets. A Rottweiler and a Chihuahua that David gets jealous of sometimes.

•Okay done•

- (This 1 is quite sad. Tw: mentions of death) David is fluent in spanish because Gabe didn't want him to forget about his Peruvian heritage after his mom passed away, so while he was young, he did his best to take David to Peruvian style restaurant and events. Gabe even traveled all the way to Peru so David could visit his grandparents, who he adored.

- Loves spicy food.

- His favorite dog breed is a Caucasian Shepard or a Calupoh.

- His love languages are Acts of Service or Gift giving.

- After he proposed to Angel or after they were married, if anyone tried flirting with him, he would flash is wedding ring before silently walking away.

- Angel is not allowed to cook, and if they are, it's either to make noodles. Their ramen is so good, even beating David's.

- David's name on Angels phone is "Pookie Wookie 🐺" Angels' name of David's phone is their actual name. ex. "Alex," "Jackson," "Monica," but Angel changed it to "Beautiful Gorgeous🧍" He didn't care enough to change it.

- He got so jealous of the name Asher put for his number on Angels phone "Ashy Baby," but Angel was the one he punished (no walking for you tmr)

I got no more tysm <3

[cod-dump]

*breaks down your Inbox's door* *heavy breathing* I've made my own Shadow OCs but don't think this means I'm happy about it.

*I am actively losing sanity because Graves and his Shadows have me in a death grip*

So here, here are my Shadows. There's like nothing on them cause I've just now made this shit up for ~reasons~

Andrew 'Woody' Fallwood. Gets his callsign from his name and the fact he's a cowboy. Around 5'11", not very big but is plenty strong. He's a silly guy, likes to make jokes and stuff to keep the others calm, especially big boy Moose. Almost always has a cigarette in his mouth. Can be a bit of an ass but that's just cause he's a stubborn little Southern man. More of an Appalachian southern man, and grew up on a cattle farm. Just really loves cows cause he has so many fond memories of the cows under his family's care. Scary good shot. At least it's scary until people learn he grew up in rural Appalachia and then it's just "oh you've been shooting since you were six, haven't you?"

Cole 'Flash' Halley. Tall, lanky guy that stands at around 6'2". Youngest to be recruited into Shadow Company, often gets called "Baby" or similar things since he's so young. Instantly became so many of the Shadows' new younger brother. Gets his name from one of his first days as a Shadow where he beat a record for completing an obstacle course in the fastest time. He holds all the records for "fastest" on so many things on base, including "fastest time to get a hug from Moose". Cause while Moose is a nice guy and all, he doesn't just go around hugging people, especially the newer Shadows. All Flash had to do though was walk up to him in tears and Moose's big brother instincts kicked in. This was his second day on base. He's the stereotypical little brother, though, cause he's constantly doing things to piss other Shadows off/to just be annoying for the hell of it.

Matthew 'Truck' Simmons. Shorter (around 5'8"), but broad, bulky guy. He's been dubbed "getaway driver". He drives everything, from the great big tanks to just normal ass cars. Definitely a truck freak, and is always in the shop, working on any of the numerous terrain vehicles the Shadows have. Had to repeat a couple of school years, and the second he turned 18 he enlisted. He was sick of being told he wasn't "smart" just because he can't do well on academic tests. But put a truck in front of him and a toolkit and he can tell you every single thing about that truck in extreme detail.

Jacob 'Ness' Owens. Not tall at all compared to most other Shadows, only around 5'6". He's a superb swimmer, and is almost always in the water. Loves to dive and do other water related missions. If he could, he'd swim in the outdoor pool year long (it's closed during the off seasons), but luckily the indoor pool's temperature is more easily controlled, thus allowing him to intentionally make it colder. These pools are for training, but the indoor one tends to be more recreational. Ness is required to sign into something when he wants to swim, cause he always makes it colder, and Graves got sick of the complaining from Shadows trying to swim after he's done. Gets his callsign from the fact he's often in his full wetsuit while swimming, and one time, during the night, several Shadows saw him swimming outside and joked he looked like the Loch Ness Monster. He's very quiet and rarely talks, doesn't like to be around a lot of people, but does a good job and is still friendly enough. Prefers giving in to his cryptid namesake (and the fact he's Ohioan) and doing weird things to get out of conversations. (like staring wide-eyed at them and sinking under the table like it's the water level)

*Ness is my baby boy I love him so much*

Anyways, back to complaining over my willing obsession over Graves and Shadow Company

Ah, the brainrot has a firm root if you made ocs HAHAHAHAHAHAH-

-

Moose is actually an excellent swimmer and handles the cold pretty well so him and Ness would bond over that. Moose won’t stay in the water as much but he would definitely join him for a swim.

Flash would definitely be mothered by Moose. Having joined when he was pretty young himself he’s pretty protective of younger Shadows. He tries to not be overbearing but sometimes he can’t help it and worries over them.

Moose would love to hear Truck talk about his vehicles. He knows a few things himself about them, well enough to get them running or to make repairs if needed. He likes listening to people talk about things they’re passionate about.

Woody would definitely be good friends with Moose. The jokes would win him over and they have a shared love for cows. But the accent would definitely have a part in it, something Moose won’t admit. A southern accent is very comforting to him.

[cod-dump]

Moose was shook indeed!

Gaz is very pretty, okay, and someone has to be soulless to not like him! Flash barges into Moose’s office, red faced and Moose just knows it’s about Gaz… or some other hot person. Flash totally shares pics of people he finds attractive to Moose since their taste in men and women is very similar.

Moose also didn’t want a father figure but Graves snatched him up and now he has one.

The image of Ness crying when he can’t explain something to Graves is just a mood-

Some Silly Shadow OC Stuff

Snootles is on something (not drugs just a weird wavelength of brainrot) so ignore her while she rambles aimlessly about her Shadow Company OCs ****Moose is @cod-dump 's OC not mine****

Flash has a beautiful singing voice (i've probably said this before but he's like angelic, okay). A song that screams Cole "Flash" Halley is "Selene by Imagine Dragons". Every time I hear it, I have this little mental image of our beautiful blonde bombshell just dancing around in his bottlecap covered jean jacket. It's funky and fun and just it's my little Flash boy

Flash started having his sexuality crisis after joining Shadow Company. He swears the two aren't related.

Flash unable to decide if he wants to be demolished by a bear or make sweet love with a woman

Ness is ace, Flash is the definition of a bisexual disaster, and Woody definitely experimented with his sexuality when younger

Flash is so lanky I can't- He's got the longest fucking legs and they're so skinny and so of course he rocks a nice pair of skinny jeans. Better yet, cuffed skinny jeans *dies cause he's too cute*

Truck: You fucked around *cocks shotgun* Truck: Now it's time to find out

Flash: Man, women are incredible! I fucking love women! I'm so straight *meets Gaz* Flash, panicking: Oh god, oh fuck-

Ness, to Woody: I fucked up Woody: How?? Ness: I was trying to explain something to the commander but I couldn't get the words out for the life of me and so I just started crying instead. Woody: ... Ness: I don't want a father figure, please help me fix this Woody: *bursts into laughter* Ness: IT'S NOT FUNNY! I DON'T NEED A FATHER FIGURE! Woody: *laughing harder* Ness: PLEASE! I'M TRYING TO IGNORE MY DADDY ISSUES, NOT MAKE THEM WORSE!! Woody: *choking from laughing too hard*

Flash, hanging out in Moose's office just rambling: Ya know, I'm definitely a tits kind of guy. Like, boobs are nice, but men can also have titties, ya know? And man titties are nice too Moose: *turns around slowly to stare at him* Flash, realizing what he said: Wait what-

Flash's mental image during that last conversation:

And yes, Flash would simply cease to exist if he ever met Farah and Alex. They'd be too powerful for his bisexual ass

[shadow0-1]

The realest operator ever

Edit by Rem

[gomzdrawfr]

want to join the fandom cause it seems fun seeing fanarts and you and others interacting but I don't know how...and with the whole ai thing im scared...

my advice: just do it

really! sometimes all you really need is a leap of faith, and that was exactly how I dropped into the cod fandom. When I joined the ghoap discord server I talked to one of the artist I really like and respected from my lurking time (hi @bressynonym) aaaand the rest is history

I didnt know how to draw properly, nor digitally, all I did was scribbling on OneNote (yeah!) and rambled about cod characters, it is daunting and it is scary to interact but after a while? you may just be able to find someone to brainrot together with

start small, like commenting, reblogging, talking, chatting- doesn't have to be towards artist/writers, it could be the art/fic enjoyers!

you need to put yourself out there if you want something

as to if you want to start in the fandom as a creator, here's some more tips (which are all based on my experience, I am no pro at doing this, hell Im still learning myself, and I am by no means speaking these on behalf on others!)

establish a goal: what are you making? fandom based? original creations?

as with starting new, everything may take a while for stuff to happen, you'll feel like you're speaking to the void at times (esp with original arts, but do know that your stuff do get perceive by others as time goes, I would advise to draw fandom stuff as a beginning to get that boost going if you want! or else it's going to be quite hard to get things rolling)

imo this is hardest part of any new creator, you'll have to bear with it and try not to give up (but I understand how incredibly demotivating it could get, there were times when I stopped posting about Raven entirely, but eventually I post it anyway cuz surely someone out there will like them, it just takes a lot of patiences and perseverance)

btw, engagement can also vary from time to time, you may be booming for a bit, then suddenly you dont, it is a cycle that will bound to happen

take rest regularly, and I mean a break from social media because numbers, discourse and everything can get to you, very quickly (I cannot emphasise this enough)

the numbers are not worth it over your mental health (comes with practice to really solidify this thought)

study the algorithm (pain): see what other creators are doing to get where they are, what tags are they using in their post? what features/niche do people like?(this is, if you really want to grab some form of engagement, bcuz reminder in the end you are creating art for yourself first!)

example: I think posts would get more reach if you tag it with the ship name first, followed by the characters' name (doesn't work all the time tho)

that's the thing about algorithm, it is ever-changing, and you'll have to learn to adapt with it when it does!

expanding on that, studying algorithm could be about ships (for example, ghostsoap is most popular in the fandom), or really good rendered art/flashed out fic that leaves your jaw on the floor, or ships that gets lesser attention in general which puts you, who make content about them, easier to be brought into the light (like Faralex)

bUT, it can also be personality!

(again, not saying this is meant for everyone and strictly from my own experience + what I observe) for me, I made up the lack of my art by establishing a personality: a wild panda who yaps about price and their oc and also kinda everywhere in the place (just like this post LOL), OR you're the person who named themselves after Soap's ash particle number OR you're the one who likes bottom Ghost- literally anything goes, you want to make an impression in different ways, some more funny/goofier than others but it works (be mindful and stay respectful tho, dont wanna be the asshole in the fandom now do ya?)

efforts ≠ engagement (not all the time, but most time) and this is a fact. Sometimes, you can't expect a piece you did for 10+ hours to get thousands views and likes, especially in a fandom space. You need to understand algorithm is that wonky. (very disheartening, but again, you make the art for you and the few others who genuinely likes them, and those people can go a long way) be mentally prepared for such events, and try not to beat yourself up too much for it

ultimately tho, do it, do it scared but do it anyways and again, draw the things that bring you joy, I hope these could be helpful in some ways!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 8 - Blow the House Down

[Also Available on AO3]

Shadow Dance Masterlist

Summary: The remaining members of the 141 stage a prison break to free Soap, Ghost, and Los Vaqueros from being "detained" by Graves and Shadow Co.

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, character with trauma, established relationship, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, includes some in-game dialogue

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 4.1 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV

November 3, 2022 04:57 - Las Almas, Mexico

The hazy gray of dawn slowly began to lighten the sky, yet the golden gleam of the sun remained absent. Cloud cover built overnight acting as the fuel to be burned away in the tinder box of morning radiance. 

From the depths of the receding darkness of the night, the purring engines of two white vans raced down a dirt road, flood lights shining a path towards the exfil point, scorching a hole through the bleak black around them. Skidding to a halt just outside the prison walls, the desert’s powdery sand scattered up behind them and drifted down past the headlights, caught in the rays of the high beams as they parked beside an abandoned vehicle. A chorus of gunfire in the distance greeted them as bullets sliced indiscriminately through the air. Thunder claps of ammunition exiting the chamber rolled over the vast landscape of rocks, cacti, and wild grass, echoing out and silencing the cries of coyotes and the calls of owls. 

Three figures in shadow exited the vehicles, heading towards the prison walls. Their heads on a swivel, eyes peeled for possible enemy activity as they scurried towards their point of access. It seemed as though Shadow Co. was being kept busy, and considering the other vehicle left to the side, someone else must have taken it upon themselves to stage a coup against Graves, an attempt at cutting the head off the snake, one that acted as the perfect distraction for the other members of the 141.

Price’s strides were long and purposeful as he led the way into danger, relaying the rules of engagement to the two soldiers in his wake before they started for the top of the wall. “Expect heavy enemy fire. Take only the shots you need,” he said with a quick glance over his shoulder at Rory, his eyes sharp. “We’re here to get our people out, not clear the zone – this is an extraction, not an offensive.” 

With ropes and ascenders in tow, they made their way up to the top of the wall of the fortress of a prison. Watchtowers stood guard to their left and right, overlooking the prison yard of weathered cement and weeds prying their way through the cracks, sprouting into overgrown shrubs. Below, the distant flashes of muzzle flares glimmered across the ground like fireflies dancing at dusk, burning motes of light traveling in the gloom of the coming morning. 

Bonfire Night had come early, and they had arrived just in time to enter the fray. 

Taking position behind the barrier of concrete, Rory lowered to a kneeling position, placing her rifle on the cover wall. Searching through her scope, she caught sight of the white bone of Ghost’s mask as he, Soap, and the members of Los Vaqueros fought their way through the Shadow Company resistance against them. “We’ve got friendlies coming from our one o’clock,” she called out.

“I see ‘em,” Gaz confirmed while scanning the battle zone below. “They’ve got company.”

Enemy combatants waited for them, scattered throughout the field that the escapees would be forced to cut through. Enough bodies to make it a problem.

Taking a steadying breath, Rory tapped her practiced finger against the trigger and the bullet collided with the back of a Shadow’s thigh while hiding behind cover. A pained groan carried across the expanse of open asphalt, his reaction leaving him open to another rear assault. Without wasting a moment as he dropped, unphased by the quiet tinkling of her bullet casing dancing across the ground, she lined up the angle and with a precision hit, cleared the x-ray from the route.

“Keep that up, Ror,” Price barked approvingly. “I want that route kept clear.”

With a nod, she returned to the comfort of her scope. But that old, reliable feeling of the weight of a weapon in her hands didn’t last long as the low hum of rotors coming to life alerted the group to the appearance of a helicopter heralded by their arrival. 

Soaring overhead – all black, predatory – hunting them down, it swooped in low. The searchlight washed them in bright, white light, stinging their eyes while hair and clothing whipped violently against them under the current blasted from rapidly spinning blades.  

“Focus on that field, Lieutenant,” Price commanded in a hoarse bark, raising his voice above the sound of the aircraft to be heard. The brim of his boonie hat fluttered and flapped as he readied his weapon, tucking it tight against him and taking aim. “Gaz and I’ve got the bird.”

There were times when she could tune out the whole world while staring down her rifle, a reprieve from the continuous noise of her head that she had learned to get along with. Finding the calming point of peace as everything else blurred into white noise. This, however, was not one of those times. The controlled chaos that ensued only increased their chances of success, Shadow Co. were caught with their pants down and they were all too happy to take advantage of that. 

Streaks of fire shot out towards the enemy helicopter from the field opposite them, burning comets in the sky of hot lead ricocheting off the fuselage, sparking against the metal and pinpointing the exact location of their allied forces. Joining forces with the concentrated bullet spray of Gaz and Price’s weapons – the combined weight of heavy fire still wasn’t enough to bring it down.

The loud pinging in Rory’s ears of bullets not quite making their mark caused her to squint, gritting her teeth while reacting to something akin to nails on a chalkboard. A high pitched screech that pinched at the very nerves in her gums, sending shivers to course up her spine and lock her ligaments. Clearing her head with a sharp intake of breath, her lungs holding just to the edge of aching, she once more fired out into the black abyss below and was met with another cry of agony.

“All stations, this is Bravo-6,” Price shouted his orders over the radio, his low growl carrying over the prison barracks walls. “Get down!”

A grenade lobbed into the hovering chopper and the resulting explosion finally caused it to lose control, the fire spreading through the cockpit and flooding the interior like a sinking ship. Crashing into a nearby wall, swallowed up in a giant cloud of smoke and flame, the stench of fuel rose up into the air along with the thick, black fumes that darkened the sky once more. 

“All Bravo and Vaqueros… Top o’ the wall. Get here and I’ll get you out. How copy?”

“Loud and clear, Price. Comin’ to ya…!” 

Ghost’s gravelly voice responding over the comms had her breathing a small sigh of relief. They weren’t anywhere near to being in the free and clear, but it was a small concession she would keep a tight grasp of.

The glint of a green flare sparking to life caught out of the corner of Rory’s eye as Price tossed it down to the ground below, grabbing the attention of their team. The caustic, potent stench of burnt rubber spewing forth as the gas burned off to light the way, mingling with that of the wreckage in the corner – the fiery mass of metal like a solar flare in her scope. 

“Be advised, ropes deployed. Find ‘em and climb.”

“Roger, that.”

The friction squeal of Soap and Ghost’s ascenders on the ropes grew louder as the braided nylon became taut, the two men rising to the top of the wall, vulnerable while Shadow continued firing off potshots towards them. 

Her rifle continued in a rapid succession of percussive bangs as bodies dropped like crumpling ragdolls around the field, sacks of meat and marrow made obsolete with a bullet. Lives taken all in service of keeping her team alive and well. It was a common thing for her not to feel much remorse while taking on the enemy, having learned to ignore that voice in her head repulsed by the thought of killing, teaching herself to see it as inconsequential. Calcification of her conscience. Her or them. But in this case, knowing these were traitors – even if simply following orders like she did – made it all the more simple to shred them with each perfectly positioned shot. As the enemy popped out of cover, it became a game of whack-a-mole, a carnival shooting gallery of targets. Easy picking. Her heart rate maintained at a steady beat as rescue efforts went on around her, letting it all fade into the background, a muted distraction. Take aim, take a deep breath, hold, and then fire. 

The first heavy tactical boot made contact with the edge of the wall with the rough scuff of sole on weathered cement, and the breeze ruffled through the dark fluff of Soap’s mohawk as he reached the heights at the peak of the wall, the rough leather of his gloved hand reaching out to meet Price’s as he was pulled up. Flood lamps above cut sharp streaks of fluorescent light over the sergeant’s face, showing off the weary lines etched around his eyes. His gear stained with blood, it was clear Shadow hadn’t made things easy. 

“Sergeant MacTavish,” John greeted, voice hoarse and rasping like steel wool. His hand rested on Soap’s shoulder, giving one of his trademark pats – ever the handler to his pack of unruly mutts. 

“Good to see you, Captain.”

Soap’s Scottish brogue was an oddly comforting sound after everything that had come to light with Shepherd and Graves, and hearing it, even over her shoulder as Rory continued to fire, made any worries about him and Ghost being in danger instantly fade, settling whatever nerves were hidden under the mask of calm control. 

She rose, rifle in hand, and rested her foot on the wall, the small chunks of chipped away cement crumbling under her foot. Glancing away from her scope for a moment, she tipped her head to the side and made visual contact with the big, blue puppy eyes of MacTavish. “Good to see you in one piece, sergeant.”

A wry grin curled the Scot’s lips, tipping his head eastward. “Ah, ‘the missus’. Thought y’ were supposed t’ be in North Africa, Lamb?”

She hummed, adjusting the rifle in her arms. “Heard your arse needed saving.” Returning to her duty, she changed the angle of her fire, focusing on shorter range, and picked off the Shadows who had closed in around the escaping soldiers. Her bullets buzzed past members of the Los Vaqueros, skillfully missing them, even in tight confines as they lined up to get to the ropes dangling over the edge of the prison wall. 

Shadow forces under fire retreated to the safety of walls, towers, and roofs – Cockroaches, she thought with a sneer, the lot of them. Men and women that were hand selected by Graves himself. Knowing the sort of man he was made her question just what these soldiers were willing to do, what lines they might straddle, others they might cross, and it all made something inside her tense. It took a certain type of person to become a PMC, to pull away from the rigidity of governed rules, the type of person who wanted to make their own. Breaking free of the structure, the form…

Given pause for a moment, her stomach clenched, that quiet voice in the back of her head a timid whisper about whether she was any different at all. She had gone in with good intentions, but that had paved the way to hell. All too aware of what she was capable of, handpicked by Price, willing to forgo the usual channels to complete a mission–

The brief moment of reflection under a starry sky and with bloodshed down below was quickly swallowed back down. Sometimes it was best not to think on those sorts of things.

The next boot met their position with a heavy thud, the weight of a walking fridge behind it, as a long leg swung over the barrier. Rifle hugged tight to his chest, the same way Rory held hers, Ghost scanned their surroundings from on high, dark eyes behind the mask penetrating the gloom below, quietly observing, meeting Gaz’s greeting with a curt nod.

“Garrick. Price.” Ghost’s attention lowered on Rory’s back as she maintained cover fire. “Nice shootin’, Sinclair.” 

“I do my best,” she muttered while taking out another Shadow with a clean shot to the chest. Soap looked between Price, Gaz, and Rory still laying down fire, a hint of confusion in the lines of his brow and around his eyes as he caught his breath. “How’d you know?” “Laswell,” Gaz replied. “Soon as Shepherd went dark, she called us.”

“Laswell, still solid as a rock,” Ghost said, the usual stoicism giving way to a hint of pride hidden behind the handsewn skeletal visage.

As the squad caught up, the Vaqueros began their ascension, beginning with – who Rory assumed was the leader – a grim looking man, his stubbly jaw clenched tight, eyes burning with fire. The sting of betrayal and the need for revenge after being imprisoned by a former ally cut into every sharp edge of his features. 

Soap, seemingly friendly with the man, gave the introductions. “Colonel Vargas, meet Captain Price, Lieutenant Sinclair, and Sergeant Garrick.”

“Thanks for the assist –” Vargas glanced over his shoulder at the sound of yet another shot going off and the cry of pain that followed it reaching his ears, studying Rory for a moment, brow cocking as he watched her catch stray Shadows and keep his men alive. “Suppose you’ve been the one keeping my men under cover fire, huh?”

She pulled back from her scope, releasing the extractor as another casing fell to the ground and chimed softly at her feet. “Suppose so.”

A half grin curled his lips, showing off sparkling teeth. “I’m impressed,” Vargas said, nodding his head. “You’re one hell of a marksman, Señora.”

“Guess that’s why the Captain keeps me around,” she said with a smirk, flipping the wave of hair that fell in front of her eyes back, and glancing past Alejandro’s shoulder at Price, holding his stare until he dragged his tempest gaze away from her, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

“Well, perhaps I could assist,” Alejandro said, immediately getting into position beside her and helping to lay cover fire down for his men against Shadow Company. “Cheers,” she said with a grin that had yet to fade from her face. “Happy for it.”

There were still at least a dozen men below that needed to climb, moving targets for the Shadow forces to take aim at, while the others remained corralled together. Fish in a barrel. Her hand tightened its grip on her weapon, holding it steady against her as she observed the muzzle flares flashing like fireworks before the sound of the gunshots met them. No longer facing singular guards and scouts, there were now roving packs to contend with.  Armored vehicles. Snipers. 

“Gaz, Soap, Ghost – Overwatch – Now!” Price commanded.

A storm of lightning and thunder held contained within prison barracks rained down. Pot shots taken at the wall sent dust and debris falling like hail into the faces of the men trying to climb to safety. Chaos swirled and explosions rang out as soon as Soap got his hands on a grenade launcher, nearly vibrating with excitement over the newfound artillery power. 

The ground shook, rumbling up below their feet as the tectonics of the battlefield shifted, becoming aggravated, an open wound. For everything Shadow threw at them, they met it in kind, holding them off. 

“Got snipers on the roof.” Price growled. “Take ‘em out, Ror.”

“My pleasure.”

Her rifle swung to the left, taking into account the new wind speed and direction as it breezed over the peaks of her cheeks and tousled the loose waves of her hair. Lining up her shot, crosshairs set, eyes narrowed, seconds felt like hours as she listened to the steady rhythm of the beat of blood in her ears – like holding a shell and hearing the ocean. Her gloved finger whispered over the metal of the trigger, and with a sharp breath sucked between gritted teeth, the air was punched from the enemy sniper’s lungs, their life taken in the blink of an eye. 

The wall they had claimed steadily filled with escapees, and once the last man had reached the top, Price pulled back from his firing position. It was time to pull out. This wasn’t the war, it was just a staging area, one that let them see the enemy in action, spot their weaknesses and plan how to use it against them. 

Pointing out the ropes they had entered with, Price barked out his orders, “Down the wall. We are leaving!” 

Repelling down with ease, soldiers streamed over the wall to freedom on the other side. One after another, boots hit the sand, weapons kept at the ready. Until the prison was out of sight, they weren’t clear of danger. 

In the distance, the sky had become a deep indigo blue with the coming morning as a sliver of orange cut across the horizon line. Fire in the sky stretching out, slowly climbing above the mountain ridge. Each fine, tensile ray like the sharp edge of a blade slicing through the darkness that blanketed the land.

Soldiers lined up, waiting at the bottom of the wall for the Captain to arrive – always the first into a foxhole and the last to leave – it was just one of the many things that he did that commanded the respect of his team. The reminder that there were still those that held some sort of honor in a world full of liars, cheaters, and traitors. People desperate for strength, power… control. Things that seemed to seep from Price’s very pores, exuding from him – a born leader. They trusted him to have their backs, to not leave them behind and he had never failed in that duty.

Uncoupling himself from the rope upon making landfall, Price’s heavy brow furrowed as he looked out towards the horizon. With a command, the group split into two, retreating into the safe confines of the vehicles there to extract them with the same rush as a holiday crowd through an airport. 

Climbing into the passenger seat up front, Rory took her spot beside Gaz behind the wheel. The vehicle rumbled forward, his hands steady at ten and two, following Alejandro in the other van as they were led to safe harbor where they could amass for the next front. The mission had become more than just a search for missiles – another end of the western world threat – the lives of their own had been made into fodder so others didn’t have to face the consequences.

Glancing over at Garrick, the rising streak of sunbeam blazed like a molten core amongst umber as he watched the road ahead, the fierceness having grown behind his eyes since the first time she had met him. His stare was now as focused and piercing as the Captain’s. Coming into his own, it was a remarkable thing to witness. He was as much a soldier as the rest of them were, the war they were about to face just as personal to him. 

Tight jaws, scowls, and narrowed eyes abounded in the vehicle. The electric buzz of anger rolling like a charged current around them. Would have been easier if they just came clean to start with, if they hadn’t been sent on a wild goose chase, she thought, eyes fixed on the rear lights of the vehicle in front of them. Tidying messes was something she had gotten used to in her career – the dustpan and broom of colonial powers – but it was the sheer hubris behind Shepherd’s actions that annoyed her most. A man who had grown far too used to thinking himself above it all, the untouchable, as if the law and truth held no sway over him. That he was incapable of being punished for the things he felt he had a right to do because he was under some false impression he knew what was best. 

A reflexive twitch shot through her, fingers curling into a fist on the armrest of her seat. She had come face to face with men like that before, seen the monstrous things they were capable of. Men who deemed themselves worthy of the power they had amassed. Violent means were an easy tool for them to cling to, the lives of others meant little in the path of their own personal crusade. For greed, for dominance… for trying to do a little good in a world of bad. Her eyes lifted to the rear-view mirror and landed on the back of John’s head before meeting her own reflection glancing back at her. 

Fuck, need a cigarette. Anything to ignore the hypocrisy that swirled in her thoughts, jaws of razor sharp teeth that lay in wait, ones she still tried to pretend weren’t there despite claiming the opposite. 

“Shepherd burned us.” 

Ghost’s rasping voice filled the back of the van, contempt rife in every word, drawing her back into the here and now, tearing her from the inside of her head before she was dragged down into the bog of things she buried deep. 

“He sent Graves and his Shadows to kill us and round up Los Vaqueros.”

“We know why.”

“The missiles,” Rory started, filling in the void Price had left behind, looking back over her shoulder at the two hulking squad mates they had just saved. “The ones you found. They weren’t supposed to be out in the wild. It was a mistake. One Shepherd and Graves are both at fault for. You lads and Los Vaqueros just happened to be the unlucky recipients of their efforts at trying to bury it.”

“Bury it?” Soap snarled, dark brows knitting with the deep set furrow between them. 

She nodded, her eyes flitting to Price, noting the rigid lines of his shoulders. He was stewing in silent rage. She could only imagine the thoughts brewing behind the eyes that gave nothing away, a placid surface hiding jagged points of ice and cruel riptides. “And you weren’t the only ones,” she added, glancing over at Soap. “You were right about how I should still have been in Africa. The mission I’d been on, the one to collect Botha, ties right back into this. Hassan had come to him first to transport the missiles to America. Had information that could have saved us a lot of trouble.” Rory turned back to face the road they drove on, her voice a low murmur of regret, “He ended up dead because of it.”

“Steamin’ Jesus. What the hell is Shepherd doin’?”

“He’s like most at the top, Johnny.” Ghost sat stiff against his seat, his mass locked down and only his head on a swivel. “Ready to drop ya at a moment’s notice t’ keep ‘imself in power.”

If Shepherd thought this was the best course of action to clean up his mistake, he had been dead wrong. He’d only gone and made things impossible for himself, gaining the ire of a whole squad of soldiers who had done all manner of questionable things in their careers in order to meet the successful end of a mission. A foolish thing, indeed. It wasn’t like they hadn’t all come with their own reputations when he had backed the creation of the taskforce. A captain who had been sent into brutal conflicts all over the planet, making the tough decisions no one else wanted to, ruthless in his endeavors, a man only an absolute numpty would want to make an enemy of. Two lieutenants who had both been through their own versions of hell, facing torture and pain, who knew what was necessary to survive at all costs. And two sergeants, while young, full of piss and vinegar, and not yet quite as cynical as their veteran leaders, were treading the same path into the bowels of the dark parts of the world few others ever saw. 

Shepherd was in for one hell of a reckoning.

“That’s why we’re going to take him and Graves out of the picture,” Price husked, his head angling sharply to the side. “Get rid of a problem before it gets worse.” His glare darkened, the cold machine of a soldier ever present in those bottomless steely blue eyes. “Then we focus on Hassan.”

[callsignhood]

Wendigo’s Consultation

Warning: Flashing Images (starting at 2:10, ending at 2:15) PTSD

CoD OC Backstory, when he finally decides to seek help instead of handling everything by himself.