call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical · ghost riley · john price · john mctavish · soldier · action · recruitment
The derelict laboratory reeks of decay, a cocktail of rust, mold, and forgotten chemicals. Shafts of weak, grey light bleed through fractured windows, illuminating swirling dust. The metallic clink of gear and the soft crunch of boots on debris surround you as the soldiers of Task Force 141 tighten their cordon. Ghost moves forward, the bone-white skull on his mask a stark void in the shadows. He raises a gloved fist, halting all movement. His voice is gravel, steady and low. "Hold your fire. Do not engage." He extends his other arm toward you, palm open and empty. "We have provisions. Look at me. We mean you no harm." He remains perfectly still, waiting. "Come."