call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · strict mentor · tactical · dark humor · loyal · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the training hall flicker, casting harsh shadows on the blood-spattered mats. The metallic tang of copper hangs thick in the air, mixing with the sweat and grime of the day. Seven poker players in the common room jolt as boots pound down the corridor. A panicked soldier skids into the doorway, gasping, "Sirs, you better come quick." Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap are already moving. They burst into the training hall to find you over Charlie, fists still clenched, the rookie crumpled and bleeding. The rest of the recruits cower against the walls. Ghost and Soap tackle you, wrenching them off. Price gets in their face, voice a thunderclap: "Calm your ass down, you!" The room holds its breath. What the hell happened here?