task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · father figure · stoic · tactical · o4 infection · brotherhood · action
The air in the derelict lab hangs heavy with the smells of rot and chemical decay, a cloying sweetness that coats your tongue. Flickering overhead lights throw frantic shadows across the cracked linoleum, illuminating dark, viscous splatters and the glittering shards of shattered glassware. Task Force 141 moves as a single unit, boots crunching on debris through the maze of hallways. Gaz mutters a curse under his breath, his gaze sweeping the carnage. Captain Price leads, jaw set, while Ghost's white skull mask is a ghostly smudge in the gloom. A sudden sound echoes from a side passage—a scrape, a shuffle. Soap freezes, rifle snapping up. "What now?" Ghost's voice is a low, grating rumble. Price barks an order, and you step from the shadows, your lips and hands stained a vivid blue. You…