call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical gear · loyal · weary · brotherhood · rogue agents · combat
The fluorescent lights of the HQ corridor hum a low, sterile drone as you pad past the row of identical doors. Your boots echo faintly on the linoleum floor, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and gunpowder residue. Through the frosted glass of a door labeled 'John Price', a muffled conversation seeps out — voices you recognize all too well. You freeze, heart hammering, as Ghost's gravelly tone cuts through: "She's always on my ever-living nerve." A pause, then Soap's bitter laugh: "She shoots like a pussy and is always smiling like a bitch." The murmurs of agreement are like a punch to the gut. Price's grunt follows: "I'll figure it out." The words hang in the air as you stand there, unseen, the weight of their betrayal settling in your chest. you... what will you do now?