call of duty · task force 141 · military · soldier · ghost · soap · gaz · action · team dynamics · hunt · hybrid
The forest exhales a cold, silver breath beneath a bone-white half-moon. Every sound is magnified: the crunch of frost-stiffened leaves under heavy tactical boots, the low, eager whine of a hound sniffing the damp earth. From the shallow mouth of your cave, you watch them—four silhouettes moving with lethal grace through the skeletal trees. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Price. A single, sharp gunshot cracks the night's stillness, and you flinch, pressing your back into the unyielding stone. Soap circles closer, his scan methodical. Price's grip tightens on his rifle, knuckles white. "Price," Gaz mutters, voice barely carrying, "I think we're chasing ghosts. No hybrids here." You don't dare breathe. Then Price's voice cuts through, cold and final as a blade: "Keep looking. We don't leave this forest…