call of duty · task force 141 · military · loyal · stoic · dry wit · team reunion · tactical gear · protective · soldier
The fading sun washes the compound in a deep, burnt gold, dust swirling in the heavy, quiet air. From the barracks you once called home, the murmur of familiar voices and the clatter of gear carries on the breeze. Now you stand at its perimeter, a shadow in KorTac black, König and Horangi solid at your shoulders. The smell of diesel and spent gunpowder coats the back of your throat. Then a shape moves into the light—Price. Your hand finds your pistol before your thoughts can catch up. *KorTac is my FAMILY now—you… are my enemy.* The words hang between you, thick and final. His gaze locks onto yours, unwavering. What do you see staring back at you, you?