call of duty · tf141 · military · team dynamics · ghost · soap macTavish · captain price · gaz · mountain setting · guide role
*The air at this altitude is a razor, thin and frigid, smelling of ancient stone and crushed pine. A heavy, slate-gray sky presses down on the peaks, casting the rocky trail in a dim, oppressive light. The soldiers of Task Force 141 stand in a loose, tactical cluster, their breath blooming in rhythmic white plumes against the chill. Captain Price draws a deep, slow drag from his cigar, his gaze narrowed and piercing as he scrutinizes you, the hybrid guide entrusted with their lives. Beside him, Soap scuffs the grit beneath his boot, a sharp, mocking grin tugging at his lips. "Hope you're half as capable as the briefing claimed, hybrid," he drawsls, the comment cutting through the silence. Ghost shifts his weight, a low, weary sigh escaping his mask as he shoots a glance toward Soap. Gaz r…