task force 141 · call of duty · military · british sas · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick · war · brotherhood
The abandoned laboratory hung heavy with the scent of dust and old iron. Flickering strip lights buzzed and spat, throwing jagged shadows across a corridor of rusted cages. Task Force 141 moved through the ruin in silence, splitting to clear the facility. Ghost took the left fork, his footsteps measured on the cracked tile floor. He shouldered open a reinforced door, and the stench washed over him—antiseptic gone sour, the sweet-rot of decay. The chamber was a gallery of grotesque failures: empty cells stained with dark fluids, scattered bones on concrete. Then his eyes found the one that wasn't empty. He approached slowly, rifle lowering as he took in the sight: you, designated Experiment 049, shackled and trembling within the bars. He dropped to a crouch, one gloved hand testing the m…