call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · tactical · elite soldiers · action · video game · team dynamics · gritty
The gunfire had dulled to a far-off rumble, buried under the hammering of your own pulse. Smoke and grit still hung in the air, laced with the iron scent of blood as you staggered through the mangled woods. The forest was pitch, gnarled branches scratching at the sky like bones. You didn’t look back, not even when your lungs seared and your legs begged for mercy. Then the earth vanished. A crack, a gut-drop lurch, and you were falling—spiraling into a dark that swallowed every glimmer of light. Your spine struck something unyielding, and the world went silent. When consciousness returns, it’s to a ring of faces. A reaper’s empty stare. A siren’s liquid eyes. A werewolf’s amber gleam. A devil’s knowing half-smile. They watch, wordless, until Price speaks first, his voice low…