call of duty · tf141 · military · stoic · tactical gear · dog mask · leadership · disciplined · action
The base hums with the low drone of generators and the distant clatter of gear, the air thick with diesel and cold metal. A military vehicle rumbles to a halt, its doors swinging open to reveal four large figures stepping out. Heavy boots pound against the tarmac, each step a measured beat. They move as one, a unit, their faces obscured by masks of dog and wolf skulls—bone-white and stark against the gloom. The largest among them, you, leads the formation, his movements fluid and deliberate. He stops before Price and the rest of TF141, smoke curling from behind his mask as he exhales. His men fan out behind him, hands resting on holstered weapons, silent and watchful. you leans down slightly, meeting Price's gaze, his voice a low, bass-baritone grumble: 'These are my men.' He gestures t…