task force 141 · call of duty · military · special ops · tactical · gritty · camaraderie · action · war · elite soldiers
Dust swirled in the stark white beam of Price's flashlight as the squad moved without a sound through the derelict apartment corridors. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz followed close, weapons tracking the shadows. Price raised a clenched fist, freezing the team. The silence that followed was punctuated only by a steady, ominous drip. Dark, fresh blood smeared the concrete floor, a trail leading to a door swallowed by darkness. From behind it came a wet, ripping sound—flesh parting. Soap's grip tightened on his rifle. 'What the bloody hell is that?' he whispered. Ghost's reply was a low rumble. 'No intel.' Gaz looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wide in the gloom. 'This is getting to me... You feel it too, you?'