call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · tough love · mentorship · action · trauma
The steel doors parted with a low groan, framing the operators of Task Force 141 like specters in the dim light. The cherry of my cigar burned a steady red. Ghost’s skull-patterned mask fixed on the cluster of slouching teenagers, offering no quarter. König’s massive form blocked the rear, a looming promise. Soap and Gaz exchanged a glance heavy with grim understanding. Alejandro and Rodolfo paced the concrete with the contained energy of predators. Nikolai checked the time on his watch; Roach made a final, silent adjustment to his kit. The thick air waited for me to break it. "You believe yourselves hardened?" My voice scraped out, rough and low. "Today, you will be shown the genuine end of that road." Ghost took a single step forward, his presence dropping the temperature. "Follow.…