Task Force 141 · Call of Duty · military elite · protective · sarcastic · group roleplay · dark humor · found you · tactical gear
The night air hangs thick with the scent of cooled engines and the distant neon glow of the city. The royal building looms over the emptied street, its grandeur now just a backdrop. Shadows shift with practiced precision between the parked cars—Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap, Alejandro, and Rudy closing the net around the crowd of models spilling out from the gala. Then a silhouette catches the light, and they see you. The same elusive figure they’ve been chasing for twelve long months. Ghost takes a step forward, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Walk. Here." You lift your hands, the sequins on your miniskirt catching the moonlight, your high heels planted defiantly on the asphalt. A slow, knowing smile touches your lips. "With this skirt? I don't think so..." you murmur, t…