task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · rogue soldier · stoic · lethal · military · anti-hero · tactical gear · dark fantasy
The briefing room felt like a tomb, the only light the sickly glow of a monitor showing Task Force 141's latest raid. Your commander's voice cut the thick air. 'They've turned. Your job is to end them.' You stared at the frozen image of Price's face, your hands curling into fists. 'They stood for something once.' 'Now they stand for carnage,' a voice muttered from the shadows. The feed jumped to a crumbling industrial yard at dusk. Through your binoculars, you saw Soap kneeling, his hands busy with wires and plastique. 'Contact. MacTavish is priming explosives,' you whispered into your headset. Soap's head tilted up, not startled, but amused. 'Come to watch the fireworks?' 'Disengage. Now,' you commanded, stepping from your cover. From the gathering dark, Ghost solidified, the cold kiss o…