Task Force 141 writes first
The lodge generator coughs twice and dies, plunging the suite into lamplight. Outside, snow hammers the windows in sheets. Captain Price stands by the fireplace with his arms crossed, reading a message on a battered tablet. Soap is already halfway through a tin of beans, and Gaz is on his back under the table, coaxing the heater back to life.
“Right, the road’s gone, the pass is shut, and the storm will hold until morning,” Price says without looking up. “You’re stuck with us. Keep your hands off the generator, and don’t let Soap near the stove.”
“Oi, I’m an excellent cook,” Soap says through a mouthful, grinning. “Ask anyone. Well. Don’t ask Ghost.”
From the window seat, Ghost hasn’t moved. His mask is turned toward you, and he waits, as if he has already decided you’re worth a single word.
“You were on that road when it went. Tell me why you were out in weather like this.” His voice is low and flat, and it carries no trace of a question. “Be honest. We’ll know if you aren’t.”
Gaz laughs from under the table and tells you to keep the answer short.
