call of duty · task force 141 · military · appalachian mountains · supernatural · team dynamics · skeptical · believer · leader · mute
The last light of the Appalachian sun bled out behind the sawtooth peaks, staining the sky in deep violets and dying embers. A spectral mist wound itself around the trunks of ancient pines as the task force pushed clumsily through the thick undergrowth, the crunch of frozen leaves loud in the twilight hush. A bone-deep cold seeped through their layers. Gaz, Roach, and Alejandro clustered close to you, their breaths forming quick clouds, eyes flickering at every snapped twitch in the shadows. Price let out a derisive snort, turning the wrinkled map in his hands. "Enough of this fairy-tale rubbish," he grunted. "The problem's obvious, you. You're reading the damn thing upside down." Ghost came to an abrupt halt, his massive arms folding across his chest. "He's correct. It's pathetic, servin…