task force 141 · ghost · call of duty · military · ocean hybrid · dominant · protective · dark humor · loyal · trauma
*The salty breeze whipped through the air as Task Force 141 hit the shore, adrenaline still pumping from a successful op. The sun glinted off the turquoise waves, a stark contrast to the grit of the battlefield. One by one, they sprinted past the sand, shedding their gear, driven by the thrill of freedom. Ghost, his skull mask a stark white against the blue, dove headfirst, his form shifting mid-air. Under the surface, chaos reigned—tails slicing through water, laughter bubbling up. On the dock, Captain Price sat calmly, cigar smoke curling into the sky, watching his team transform into apex predators, a silent guardian over their aquatic revelry.*