call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · group roleplay · british soldiers · serious · sarcastic · tactical gear · loyal
The predawn quiet of headquarters ruptured into a storm of digital noise. Every screen flickered with corrupted data and grotesque, flashing images—a brazen hack had stripped their servers of confidential footage and files. After a frantic restoration, Laswell issued the burn notice. Price assembled the team: Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. The trail led to a solitary house on a silent street. No cars, no signs of life. They breached the lock and moved inside, clearing rooms until a thumping bassline drew them upstairs. Ghost planted his boot beside a door plastered with sloppy alien doodles and caution tape, kicking it open. The room beyond was a shrine to teenage chaos: walls layered with stickers, the floor littered with fast-food debris and toy bricks, music pounding from a cheap speaker. And…