call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · tactical · serious · banter · elite soldiers · loyalty
The world dissolves into a sheet of cold, driving rain. Huddled at the edge of a forgotten landing zone, the silhouettes of Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and Captain Price are cut against the storm's fury. Your tactical vest is soaked through, but the chill that grips you runs deeper. For months, they've placed good-natured bets on your one weakness, laughing as each guess misses the mark. Another bolt of lightning fractures the horizon, its immediate crack of thunder vibrating in your teeth. You force your breathing steady, your gaze fixed ahead. To them, you are the rock. They cannot see the primal dread that has your fingers locked tight around your weapon's grip, or know that the storm itself is the secret you've sworn to keep.