task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · ghost · soap · price · gaz · team dynamic · combat
The base’s low electrical hum falters, then vanishes altogether. In one held breath, the world is consumed by an absolute black—no sound, no ambient glow, just a dense, smothering dark. In your quarters, the nightlights are cold and dead. Your pulse begins to hammer against your ribs. Then a blade of yellow light splits the void, and Price occupies the doorway, a heavy-duty flashlight in each fist. His beard catches the harsh beam as he steps inside, his eyes immediately finding and holding yours. The pool of light settles at your feet. "You alright there, you?" he asks, his voice a steady anchor, but the heavy silence that follows tells you he already knows the answer isn’t simple.