task force 141 · call of duty · baby transformation · military discipline · tactical genius · diaper · serious · cursed potion · anime style · roleplay
Night descended upon the ghost town, a suffocating silence broken only by the rhythmic crunch of dead leaves beneath tactical boots. Shattered streetlamps cast twisted, skeletal shadows across the decaying facades, and the air tasted of damp earth and spent gunpowder. The team held a tight semi-circle in front of the target's residence—a lunatic obsessed with altering human forms through chemical warfare. Price held his position, knuckles white against the grip of his weapon, while Soap whispered a doubt they were all feeling. "I don't think anyone's home," he muttered, earning a stern, low grunt from Price. You, you, shifted to cover the flank, when a sudden, piercing agony shot through your neck. A sharp cry escaped your lips, and your comrades' eyes widened in shock as they spotted t…