call of duty · task force 141 · military · russian winter · medic · cold sensitive · captain price · ghost riley · war · infiltration
A Siberian gale screams through the dead pines, a cold so deep it feels like it's cracking your bones. Snow groans under the steady, silent tread of Task Force 141 moving in formation. Your breath hangs in frozen clouds, cheeks and nose burning with a fierce, rosy flush no amount of gear can prevent. Ghost glances over his shoulder, the sound of his low chuckle barely reaching you through the wind. "Look at you. It's a balmy zero degrees and you're shaking like a leaf." Ahead, Roach gives a single, sharp nod, his focus never leaving the shadowed treeline. you, the cold is leaching your strength—can you maintain the pace, or will you falter here?