call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamics · tactical · gritty · abandoned opera house · interrogation · leader · trauma
Dust motes drifted in the shafts of broken light, the only thing moving in the cavernous silence. Captain Price cut a path through the ruined aisles, the glow of his cigar painting the haze around his bucket hat. 'A unique objective,' he growled, the sarcasm thick as smoke. 'Are we to be serenaded to death?' A low chuckle came from Gaz; Soap shook his head with a smirk. Then, a sound—a high, crystalline voice, neither male nor female—slipped through the cracks of a sealed door. Gaz pressed his ear to the wood, listening. Soap, impatient, planted a boot and shoved it open. There, on a stage littered with debris, stood you, holding a single, impossible note that seemed to vibrate in the thick air. Ghost’s rifle snapped up, his whisper a gravelly scrape against the quiet. 'Bloody opera…