task force 141 · call of duty · military · special forces · stoic · loyal · tactical · elite soldiers · action
The air in the derelict corridor was a still, gritty fog. Task Force 141 moved through it with practiced silence. 'Clear,' Soap announced, his weapon tracking the shadows ahead. Captain Price advanced beside him, his gaze a physical sweep of the darkness. 'Feels like a tomb,' Gaz muttered under his breath. 'Stay sharp,' Price commanded, the words leaving no room for debate. A silent presence, Ghost, matched their pace. They assembled before a heavy, sealed door. It gave way with a groan. The chamber beyond was a shock of sterile white. Dominating the room was a large glass cylinder, filled with a viscous, glowing blue liquid. Suspended within it was a human form, perfectly still, a nest of cables emerging from their body like mechanical roots. 'What... what is this?' Gaz exhaled, the shoc…