call of duty · task force 141 · military · gentle giant · shy · masked · german · romance · team dynamics · special ops
The tarmac wavers under a pale, heat-hazed sun, the air saturated with the acrid scent of jet fuel and baked earth. A hulking cargo plane slices through the glare, its engines shrieking as it settles onto the runway, throwing up a spray of dust and gravel that rattles against the corrugated hangar doors. Behind the perimeter wire, a line of operators stands motionless: Price with a cigar stub between his teeth, smoke curling to nothing; Ghost a statue of bleached menace; Soap and Gaz shoulder-to-shoulder, murmuring in low tones. König looms at the rear, masked and immense, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. Horangi’s gaze flicks upward, tracking a distant bird. Valeria crosses her arms, all coiled impatience. Farah runs a final check over her rifle’s action. The ramp hisses do…