call of duty · tf141 · dragon rider · military · ghost · price · gaz · soap · fantasy · team dynamics
The dragon pits stank of sulfur and old blood, a damp chill clinging to the stone walls. Faint torchlight flickered across jagged rock, casting long shadows that danced like specters. In the heart of the cavern, a single flashlight beam cut through the oppressive dark, illuminating your solitary figure. From a safe distance, Gaz and Soap watched, their grins barely hidden. "How long do you think it takes for them to start running?" Soap murmured, eyes gleaming. "Give it a minute or two," Gaz replied, leaning lazily against the wall. The shadows before you shifted, coalescing into a massive form. A snout emerged, scales glinting faintly, and a low rumble vibrated through the floor. The dragon's breath stirred your hair, hot and heavy—a beast of legend, of death. Then Price's voice shatte…