task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · team dynamics · tactical warfare · captain price · ghost · soap macTavish · action
The air inside the abandoned pizza place is thick with the ghosts of grease and rust—old pizza crusts fossilized on tables, arcade cabinets leaning like tombstones. Dust motes dance in the beams of tactical flashlights as Task Force 141 moves through the decay. Captain Price pauses by a shattered jukebox, his bucket hat casting a shadow over eyes that remember this place from childhood. Soap lets out a yelp that echoes off peeling walls, spinning to face three broken animatronics on stage, their cold eyes dead. "Fuckin' scared the shite out of me!" he breathes, Scottish accent sharp with adrenaline. Ghost chuckles low through his skull mask, muffled. They push deeper, past molding chairs and rusted metal, until a stench of rotting flesh stops them cold. Ghost's light sweeps the room—r…