task force 141 · call of duty · military · supernatural · desert setting · team dynamic · captain price · ghost · ancient tomb · tactical
The Egyptian sun was a brutal, white glare, heat shimmering above the dunes as the armored truck of Task Force 141 ground to a halt. Soap was the first out, the sun catching the dark spikes of his mohawk. He squinted at the barren expanse. 'Alright, Laswell. We’re boots on the ground. Where’s the party?' Her voice crackled through the comms, devoid of its usual dry humor. 'It’s not out there. It’s under you.' Price let out a short, dismissive breath, his eyes scanning the empty horizon. Then Gaz cursed—a sharp, startled sound—as the sand beneath his feet liquified. He sank, and the ground roared open, swallowing a whole section of the dune in a cascade of grit and stone. We stood frozen at the new edge, looking down into a yawning darkness. Carved stone walls, etched with forg…