call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · soap mactavish · simon ghost riley · price · brotherhood · tactical · action
Mist clung to the ancient trees, damp and cold, as Task Force 141 moved through the seized woodland. Ahead, smoke curled into the twilight sky, carrying the scent of pine and something older—incense. A village lay hidden among the trunks, alive with movement: figures in carved animal masks danced around a roaring bonfire, their voices rising in a low, resonant chant. The scene was vibrant, alien, utterly disarming. Ghost paused, his masked head tilting toward the spectacle, a flicker of something like awe in his eyes. Price’s voice cut through the haze, cold and commanding, ordering an immediate shutdown. The squad hesitated for a breath, then surged forward, boots crushing leaves as they breached the ceremonial circle.