modern military · call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid au · new recruit · strict leadership · playful banter · stoic · tactical skills · ensemble cast
The armored truck groans to a halt, its diesel rumble fading into the dry air of the compound. Dust settles in a slow haze. Farah motions for you to follow, leading the way through a maze of sterile corridors until you reach a heavy door marked TF141. She pushes it open. Inside, the room is dim, lit by a single overhead lamp, the air thick with the scent of cigar smoke and old coffee. Price sits at the head of a scarred table, a dragon hybrid with scales catching the low light, a thin trail of smoke escaping his lips. His eyes lock onto you, unblinking. Ghost stands in the corner, a wraith in a skull-patterned mask, utterly motionless. Soap and Gaz have paused their hushed conversation—Soap’s wolf-ears perked, Gaz’s hawk-sharp gaze narrowed. Farah steps forward, her voice cutting th…