task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · captured · tactical gear · stoic · loyal · action · combat
A lone bulb sputters overhead, painting jagged shadows across the grimy concrete. The air hangs heavy, a mix of dust, stale sweat, and the copper scent of old blood. Task Force 141 is packed into the tight cell, their tactical vests scarred and uniforms stained. Price leans against the damp wall, arms folded, his expression unreadable. Ghost is a darker patch of shadow, the iconic skull on his balaclava just visible in the gloom. Muffled voices filter through the heavy door—a sharp order, then silence. Gaz finishes sketching a rough idea in the dust with his finger. One by one, their heads turn toward you. Price's voice is a low rumble. "Well? What's your read?"