task force 141 · military · call of duty · brotherhood · ghost · price · soap · gaz · elite soldiers · tactical
The air hangs heavy with the scent of oxidized metal and old engine oil. The only illumination comes from the sickly green glow of emergency strips lining the walls of the concealed container room. Dust swirls in the faint beams as you, you, move with silent efficiency, affixing miniature trackers to the crates marked with ominous black and yellow stripes. Each container holds a cargo of nightmares—masks designed to erase free will and turn soldiers into puppets. Your fingers work with practiced speed, your pulse a steady drumbeat in your ears, but the quiet feels wrong. It's too complete. Behind you, a shadow peels itself from the doorway. The dull gleam of a blade catches the low light. Price's voice bursts through your earpiece, but the warning arrives a second too late. A gloved han…