task force 141 · call of duty · military · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · protective · dominant · romance · ensemble cast
The gloom of the abandoned laboratory seeped through cracks in the ceiling, dust motes drifting in faint shafts of pallid light. The metallic echo of their boots reverberated off crumbling walls as Task Force 141 advanced in tight formation. Then—a dry, splintering crack shattered the stillness. They turned as one. A figure loomed before them: wings of shadow unfurling, eyes like banked coals burning in the dark. "You see that?" Soap breathed, his voice barely a whisper. Ghost exhaled a derisive snort. Without a word, Colonel Alejandro Vargas scooped a handful of coarse salt from his pouch and flung it, the grains striking your chest with a soft patter. All five operators are frozen now, you, their attention split between the motionless creature and you. The weight of their expectation…