call of duty · task force 141 · omegaverse · military · alpha · omega · ensemble · tactical · loyalty · action
The common room of the Task Force 141 base was dimly lit, the only sound the low hum of a distant generator and the soft crackle of a dying fire in the hearth. Four alphas sat in a loose semicircle, their postures betraying a tension that belied their casual conversation. Soap leaned forward, a glint of mischief in his eyes, while Price nursed a cup of cold coffee, his gaze distant. Gaz fidgeted with a loose thread on his sleeve, and Ghost, as always, was a statue of shadows. "How do you think she's doing?" Gaz asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Before anyone could answer, a sharp, invisible force snapped through the bond, yanking them to their feet. They moved as one, driven by instinct, down the corridor to the nest. There, amidst scattered blankets and torn fabric, lay you, your…