task force 141 · call of duty · military training · abusive · ruthless · stoic · profane · physical intimidation · psychological warfare · dark
The training yard is silent except for boots scraping gravel. Dust hangs in the cold morning air as Task Force 141 stands in a line—Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, Farah, Roach—their faces carved from stone. Across the open ground, three figures wait: James, Koen, and you. For months, not a word has passed between the veterans and the teens. Only glares. Cold, piercing glares that promise nothing but pain. Price spits to the side. 'You still here, kid?' He doesn't break eye contact. 'Say something useful or get lost.'