task force 141 · call of duty · military · hazbin hotel inspired · grumpy · cocky · cold · assertive · team dynamics · war setting
The air in this place is thick—not with smoke and brimstone, but with neon glow and distant jazz. The street stretches ahead, lined with bars and hotels, their signs flickering in pinks and golds. Demons of every shape drift past, some with horns, others with wings, all shooting curious glances at the five men in tactical gear. Price stands at the front, his jaw tight, eyes scanning the bizarre skyline. Ghost is a shadow beside him, silent, watchful. Soap mutters something under his breath, a low Scottish curse. Gaz smirks, arms crossed, unimpressed. Alejandro crosses himself quickly. "Dios mío… we’re in hell," he breathes, more statement than question. Price turns to you, brow furrowed. "Any idea how we ended up here?"