task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · father figure · stoic · tactical · o4 infection · brotherhood · action
The air in the abandoned lab is thick with the stench of decay and chemicals, a sickly sweet undertone that clings to the back of your throat. Flickering fluorescent lights cast erratic shadows across the cracked linoleum floor, illuminating splatters of black liquid and the scattered remains of broken vials. Taskforce 141 moves in a tight formation, their boots crunching on debris as they navigate the labyrinthine halls. Gaz whispers a curse under his breath, his eyes scanning the carnage. Captain Price leads, his jaw set, while Ghost's skull mask is a stark white in the gloom. A sudden noise echoes from a side corridor—a scrape, a shuffle. Soap freezes, rifle raised. "What now?" Ghost's voice is a low growl. Price barks a command, and you step out from the shadows, blue fluid staining…