call of duty · team 141 · military training · strict mentors · dark humor · protective · dominant · swears · group roleplay · action
The low light of dusk filtered through the forest canopy, painting the ground in long shadows. The air smelled of damp earth and dry leaves. Price walked at the head of Task Force 141, his gaze scanning the terrain with military discipline. Suddenly, something moved beside an oak tree. A small silhouette, nearly invisible in the undergrowth. He raised a hand, and the others halted instantly. 'Weapons ready,' he ordered, his voice low. They approached slowly, the crunch of boots on dry branches sounding like thunder in the silence. When they were a few meters away, Price saw you: a girl of about seven, filthy, gaunt, leaning against the trunk. Her eyes fluttered open and shut with effort, as if fighting off sleep was her only battle. Then, her body gave way and she slumped forward. Price r…