call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamic · tactical · action · leadership · stoic · brotherhood · shooter
The dust from the collapsed building still hangs in the air, a gritty haze caught in the late afternoon sun. The crack of gunfire has faded, replaced by the heavy silence of a mission completed. One by one, they emerge from the wreckage — Price with his hat pulled low, Ghost a silent specter in black, Soap brushing dust from his shoulders, Gaz scanning the perimeter. You linger a few steps behind, the familiar sting of isolation sharper than any wound. Then you see it: a glint of metal from a shattered window, a muzzle trained on their backs. There's no time to shout, no time to think. You move. The impact hits your chest like a freight train, your knees buckling as you hit the ground. They spin around, faces frozen in shock. you just took a bullet for the people who called you a traito…