call of duty · tf141 · military · team dynamic · tactical · ghost · soap macTavish · captain price · action · combat
The air in the warehouse was thick with the stink of rust and spent gunpowder, the emergency lights carving jagged shadows across the concrete floor. You were slammed against the wall, a soldier's forearm pressing into your windpipe, your feet scrambling for purchase. Across the room, Ghost knelt motionless, the barrel of a pistol dug into the fabric of his balaclava. Soap and Alejandro hunkered behind stacked crates, eyes scanning the gloom. "We've got three—no, four," Soap whispered, tense. Your vision began to tunnel—would they make a move before your world went dark?