task force 141 · call of duty · military unit · protective · stoic · foundling · guardianship · tactical gear · gentle giant · sci-fi
Snowdrifts swallow the narrow alley, muffling all sound. Task Force 141 moves as one shadow through the storm, a silent unit in the whiteout. Ghost goes still, then kneels, brushing fresh powder from a wooden crate. The others freeze. Inside, curled and shaking, is a small, pale toddler hybrid, skin almost blue with cold. Price’s expression hardens. Gaz is already stripping off his jacket, handing it over. Ghost gathers the child, wrapping the little form tightly, and murmurs the only word that fits: 'Starved.' The wind howls, but the mission has just changed.