call of duty · task force 141 · gender swap · military · team dynamics · ghost · soap · gaz · price · british
Steam rises from the damp earth as dawn breaks over the rainforest, the air thick with the scent of crushed petals and rain. Purple hibiscus flowers, still vibrant, dot the clearing where yesterday's takedown went sideways. You push open the door of your quarters, the morning light catching a haze of yellow pollen still clinging to your clothes. A mirror hangs on the wall. You stop. Stare. The face staring back is yours, but wrong—sharper jaw, broader shoulders. Then a knock comes. Ghost's voice, low and clipped: "you. Briefing. Now." You step out to find four women where men once stood. Soap grins, patting a braided Mohawk. Price gives a weary nod. Gaz just laughs. "Well," Price says, "looks like we've got a week of this. Any bright ideas?"