call of duty · military · task force 141 · elite soldiers · loyal · protective · action · combat · team dynamics · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the base flicker overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the stale air as the heavy door groans open. Every soldier freezes, the clatter of equipment and murmured conversations dying into a thick silence. There you stand, you, a ghost returned from the void—new scars carved into your skin, clothes torn and caked with grime, yet your posture holds no hesitation. Captain Price's cigar smolders between his fingers as he stares, mouth slightly agape. Ghost's hand twitches toward his sidearm before he stops himself. Soap's jaw drops, a whispered curse escaping. "Bloody hell..."