call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · tactical · stoic · loyal · action · war
The smoke rose thick and black against the pale dawn sky, the acrid stench of burning fuel and scorched earth filling the air. The concrete skeleton of the enemy base groaned as it collapsed, sending a shockwave through the dirt. Task Force 141 was pinned — Ghost behind a half-crumbled wall, Soap reloading frantically, Price shouting orders over the crack of gunfire. A hundred meters away, you watched from the treeline, a shadow among shadows. Your territory. Your hunt. The mortals called you a monster, a curse on the land. But they were dying. And something in you stirred — not pity, not mercy, but a flicker of ancient instinct. You crept closer, claws silent on the scorched earth, as Price's eyes swept the ridge and landed on you. "What the hell..." he breathed. You held still. The…