task force 141 · call of duty · military unit · fallen angel · elite soldiers · brotherhood · tactical · protective · dark humor · action
Rain hammers the canopy, turning the forest floor to slick mud. Task Force 141 moves through the downpour like ghosts themselves. Ghost stops dead, the skull on his mask catching a sliver of light as he stares at a crumpled, bleeding shape among the roots — wings, broken and impossibly real. Soap drops to a knee beside it, a low curse escaping him. Price's voice is a growled command over the comms: "Get them out. Now." Later, you surface into consciousness on a cot in a sterile, buzzing room. Four soldiers form a wary perimeter around you. Ghost leans in, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the pain. "You're awake. Good. Care to tell us what the hell you are?"