Stopwatch

The air inside the briefing room at HQ was thick enough to choke on long before anyone even opened their mouths.

"I’m only going to say this once, Laswell," Price growled, leaning both hands heavily on the steel table, his mutton chops framing a scowl that could curdle milk. The blonde woman didn't even have a chance to speak as Price opened his mouth again. "Putting Task Force 141 in the same operational sandbox as Shadow Company, Ghosts, and KorTac is a fucking disaster waiting to happen. It’s a miracle we haven't burnt down the entire base yet, let alone military property"

"You think I enjoy listening to you lot bitch?" Commander Graves drawled, leaning back in his chair with that signature, arrogant smirking confidence. He tossed a pen onto the table, his Texan accent smooth as oil. "Bless your heart, Captain, but brass made the call. It's a joint task force. We cover ground faster, we secure the payload, and we go home. Simple as that"

"Simple?" Ghost’s voice came out like grinding stones from beneath his skull mask. He stood in the corner like a looming shadow, heavy arms crossed over his broad chest. "Last time we ran a 'simple' joint op, half the unit ended up stripped down to their skivvies doing forced physical labor in the sub-zero rain because you cunts couldn't stop picking fights in the staging area"

"Ja," König rumbled from his towering 6'10" frame, his ragged sniper hood shifting as he fidgeted nervously, his piercing blue eyes glancing around the room. "Scheiße (Shit)... I do not wish to be forced outside without my clothes again. It is... highly uncomfortable"

"Then keep your bloody mouth shut and do your job, mate," Gaz chimed in, adjusting his tactical headset. He shot a cheeky glance around the room, though his jaw remained tight with anxiety. "Because if I end up getting penal discipline in the bare buff again, I'm personally throwing Graves off a cliff"

"Settle down, all of you!" Price snapped, slamming a fist onto the metal table. "Operational parameters are set. Target is a clandestine underground facility, four levels down. We’re looking for intelligence on an unidentified biological compound. We split into designated buddy teams to clear ground fast, secure the data, and exfiltrate"

Price hauled out the squad assignments, immediately drawing groans across the room.

"König, you’re with Roach," Price ordered.

Roach smirked, tossing a short blond fringe out of his eyes and winking at the towering Austrian. "Looks like you’re stuck with me, big guy. Don't worry, I won't bite... unless you ask nicely"

König swallowed hard, muttering a soft, anxious "Jawohl (Affirmative)"

"Ghost, you’re with Keegan," Price continued.

Keegan gave a single, tight nod, his piercing blue eyes scanning Ghost through his own skull mask. "Gotcha. Let's keep it quiet, Lieutenant"

Ghost just gave a low, dangerous grunt of acknowledgment.*

"Graves, you’re riding shotgun with me," Price growled.

Graves offered a mocking salute. "Honored, Captain. Try to keep up"

"Soap, you’re paired with Gaz"

"Aye, easy work," Soap chuckled, his Scottish accent rich and warm as he slapped Gaz’s shoulder. "Just try not to get us killed with your daft ideas, Gaz"

"Piss off, Soap, I'm the sensible one here!" Gaz retorted with a grin.

"And what about you?" Soap asked, turning his bright blue eyes toward you.

Price grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Odd number. You’re floating solo on the perimeter sweep and back-up, kid. Cover our egress, stay on the comms, and do not get compromised. Clear?"

You nodded, taking your assignment in silence.

---

An hour later, the deployment was already devolving into a complete clusterfuck.

The rain outside was torrential, but inside the cold, dripping concrete bunker, the tension was hot. You were sweeping the third level, listening to the comms feed crackle with non-stop bickering.

"Graves, if you step in my line of fire one more time, I'm putting a round through your heel," Price’s voice barked over the radio.

"Reckon you gotta catch me first, Old Man," Graves snapped back, his smooth drawl laced with sheer arrogance.

"Will both of you shut the fuck up?" Ghost’s deep, clipped voice interjected. "Keegan, stop moving so bloody loud."

"I'm dead quiet, Ghost. You're just paranoid," Keegan replied calmly.

"Haud yer wheesht, the lot of ye!" Soap’s Scottish brogue yelled through the static. "Gaz, watch the door—nah, the OTHER door, you glaikit eejit!"

"I am watching it, you bloody plonker!" Gaz shouted back.

By the time you made your way down the winding, damp concrete stairs to the fourth 'basement' level, the noise had drawn everyone together out of sheer irritation. You rounded the corner to find the eight men packed into a dimly lit, damp sub-station room. It was clear the facility had been abandoned in a panic, papers were scattered, monitors flickered wildly, but the room itself hadn't been wiped clean.

"Look at this," Roach said, holding up a sleek, hard-drived server case. "Groundbreaking stuff. Medical data... genetic therapy? Curing untreatable cellular degradation. This shite is worth billions"

"Pack it up and stop gawking, Sanderson," Price ordered, stuffing files into a tactical pouch.

Over by a rusted control desk, König was towering over a small metal object. With heavy, gloved fingers, he carefully picked it up. It was a antique, surprisingly heavy metal stopwatch, complete with an ornate winding stem and a deep bronze sheen.

"Mein Gott (My God)... this is... very old," König muttered, turning it in his massive hand.

"Ooh, shiny," Roach cooed, instantly darting over and snatching it right out of König’s oversized grip. "What’s a fancy piece of antique junk doing in a top-secret biological lab?"

"Give that back, you little Wixxer (wanker)!" König grumbled, reaching for it, but Roach tossed it over his head to Soap.

"Catch, MacTavish!" Roach laughed.

"Hey! Don't throw the damn evidence!" Soap barked, catching it deftly in one hand. He looked at it, squinting. "Bloody hell, it's heavy"

"Give it here before you lot break it like a bunch of children," Price snapped aggressively, stepping between Soap and Roach. Price grabbed the stopwatch out of Soap’s hand and unceremoniously shoved it deep into his vest pocket. "Intel is secured. We're moving to the extraction point before brass finds out we spent twenty minutes arguing over pocket watches"

You finally stepped out of the shadows, joining the group as they shouldered their rucksacks.

"About time you showed up," Ghost muttered to you, his dark eyes scanning you through his mask. "We're done here. Let's move"

---

Two hours later, back in the secured holding bay of the forward operating base, the team was waiting for the final debrief. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, wet gear, and exhaustion.

Price had tossed his tactical vest onto a central crate and walked out to finalize the transport manifests.

Soap, ever the thief, eyed Price’s abandoned vest. With a sneaky grin, he sauntered over, reached into the pocket, and pulled out the metal stopwatch.

"Soap, put that shite back before the Captain catches you," Gaz warned, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, though he was watching with an amused smirk.

"Ah, relax, Gaz. I just want a proper look at it," Soap said, flipping the heavy metal piece over in his calloused palm. He wiped a smudge of grease off the metallic casing. "Wait... there's something written on the back"

Roach instantly bounced over, leaning directly over Soap's broad shoulder to look down at the fine, cursive engraving stamped into the metal backing.

"Read it, mate," Roach urged, his bright blue eyes lit up with chaotic curiosity.

Soap cleared his throat, his Scottish accent reading the rhythmic, ominous lines aloud:

"Press pause, and choose your mark— the world keeps turning, but they do not. For them, not a second passes; for you, time is yours to spend. Press again, and they awaken— never knowing what happened between the ticks”

"Sounds like some dramatic, occult bullcrap," Graves sneered, leaning against a weapons rack with his arms crossed, a mocking smile on his face. "Just a fancy toy someone had engraved"

"It's a poem," Keegan noted softly, his voice deadpan. "Probably means nothing"

"Only one way to find out, aye?" Soap grinned, a flash of pure mischief in his eyes.

"Soap, don't—" Ghost started, his low voice sharp with warning.

Before anyone could stop him, Soap pointed the face of the stopwatch directly at you and slammed his thumb hard onto the top crown button.

A deep, heavy CLICK echoed through the room, a sound like a heavy iron vault snapping shut.

Instantly, the air in the room seemed to freeze.