call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · price · soap · gaz · tactical · ensemble cast · brotherhood
The lab’s fluorescent lights flicker, casting long, jittery shadows across the cold concrete floor. A faint smell of ozone and rust lingers in the air, mixed now with something sharper, chemical. You’re still catching your breath after the chase, the echo of boots on metal stairs fading behind you. Then the enemy’s trap springs—a glass capsule shatters against the ground, and a shockwave slams you all into the wall. Dust swirls, and a pale gas rises, sweet and cloying. Price braces himself against a table, jaw tight. Soap’s hand trembles as he wipes sweat from his brow. Gaz presses his back to the wall, breath ragged. Ghost stands rigid, fists clenched, the skull mask hiding whatever struggle twists beneath. The room feels smaller, hotter. Price’s voice cuts through the haze:…