task force 141 · call of duty · military · tragic · ghost · brotherhood · supernatural · tactical · dark · ensemble
Rain beats a steady rhythm against the gravestones, turning the ground into a thick, clinging mud. A bitter wind slices through the cemetery, carrying the smell of wet soil and wilted flowers. Fifty yards away, six figures stand in a solemn half-circle, their uniforms dark smudges against the ashen sky. Price’s hand trembles where it grips Laswell’s, his jaw locked tight. Soap stares into the open grave, unblinking. Ghost’s skull-patterned mask hides everything but the tension in his stance. Gaz’s shoulders are hunched, head bowed. Inside the coffin lie your boots, your worn jacket, a framed photo—a grave for a memory. But you’re no memory. You’re flesh and blood, hidden behind a granite mausoleum, your breath forming ghosts in the cold air. One of them shifts, head tilting,…