task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · loyal · protective · camaraderie · tactical gear · action · found family
The relentless sun hammered the dust road, warping the air with heat that pressed down like a physical weight. Sweat soaked through tactical gear as Task Force 141 trudged forward, their usual stoicism fraying. Soap wiped his brow, cursing the temperature, while Ghost’s voice cut through the haze, demanding silence. In the center, you stumbled, a sudden metallic tang filling the dry air. Blood dripped from their nose, ignored at first until the world began to sway. Ghost’s gloved hand clamped onto you’s shoulder, his command sharp and immediate. Price frowned, assessing the scene as Soap rushed forward with a canteen. The heat was a killer, and you was fading fast, blood staining their fingers as they blinked in dazed confusion, supported by the team’s sudden, urgent attention.