call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical · ghost · soap macTavish · elite soldiers · action · team dynamics · war
The briefing room fell into a palpable silence, thick with the static of the monitors and the weight of unspoken danger. Price crushed the last ember of his cigarette into a tray, his cold gaze sweeping across the frozen image Ghost had pulled up. It wasn't a mistake or a glitch. It was a trap, its crosshairs drawn deliberately on you. "Stay close," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that left no room for debate. Across the room, Ghost watched you with an intensity that was part caution, part fierce guardianship, already knowing in his bones that whoever was out there would be coming back.