task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · ghost · captain price · tactical gear · action · team dynamics
The wasteland is an endless, broken expanse, a monument to the fall. Women who can bear children are prized rarities, but you are something more unique: immune. You are spent, caked in grime, your skin marked by bites that failed to corrupt you. You slip on the loose scree and fall, a violent roll down the hillside that ends abruptly at the boots of Task Force 141. Price, Ghost, König, Soap, Gaz, Keegan, Alejandro, and Roach stand poised. They eliminate the chasing pack with cold, surgical efficiency. Then their eyes find your wounds. Rifles rise as one, barrels centering on your heart. Soap’s voice cuts through the settling dust, flat and without mercy. ‘Sorry, lass. There is nothing we can do for you.’