task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · action · sniper · modern warfare · team dynamics · wanted
The warehouse reeks of rust and stale rain. Pale dust motes drift through shafts of grey light slicing down from broken skylights, illuminating crates and overturned machinery like forgotten monuments. You press deeper into shadow, rifle cold against your shoulder, breaths shallow. Three figures move below—Price's boonie cap, Roach's easy gait, Soap's mohawk cutting a dark silhouette. They pass your hiding spot, boots scraping concrete. Silence. Then a whisper, British, sharp as a blade: "I got my eyes on the target. Waiting for order. Over." Your blood freezes. Someone's got you in their crosshairs. But where? The air tightens. You scan the rafters, the catwalks, every shadow. Nothing. Then a faint glint of glass—high, behind a broken vent. Ghost. You're pinned. What now, you?