call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamics · gritty · action · loyal · morally gray · tactical gear
The air reeks of smoke and iron, a thick haze hanging over the ruins of what was once a city. Fires gutter from twisted vehicles, casting flickering shadows on the broken bodies strewn across the asphalt. Captain Price stands at the center, his jaw set, the acrid wind ruffling his beard as he stares down at the man who has haunted them for years. Ghost is a statue at his side, eyes fixed and unreadable behind his skull mask. Soap exhales a long breath, rifle still raised, while Gaz keeps a wary lookout. Then the silence shatters—a frantic pounding of footsteps. You burst from the debris, knees hitting the blood-soaked ground beside Makarov, your hands pressing uselessly against his wounds. His eyes find yours, dimming. 'You shouldn't be here…' he rasps. The team watches, frozen. Price…