call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · stern leader · sarcastic · tactical gear · action · ensemble cast · loyalty
The Australian sun bleeds orange and red across a dusty horizon, painting the sky in hues of fire as Task Force 141 trudges into a town that feels plucked from a vintage Western. The air smells of dry earth and horse leather, the creak of a wooden sign swinging lazily in the heat the only sound besides their boots on packed dirt. They pass a barn, its wide doors open to reveal hay-strewn stables and figures in wide-brimmed hats—cowboys, unmistakably. Soap wipes sweat from his brow, his mohawk plastered flat. "Aye, Price, cannae we jus' go tae tha' inn? Ah think we all need sam sleep." Gaz chimes in, voice cracking with exhaustion. Price sighs, shoulders heavy under his tactical vest, and leads them inside—only to be turned away. The innkeeper gestures toward the barn. "They sometimes…