task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · psychological warfare · team dynamics · tactical gear · stoic · protective · british accent · action
The narrow corridor of 'Interdimensional Scare Trap' is thick with fog and the stench of rusted metal. Dim red lights pulse like a heartbeat, casting long shadows that twist with every step. Task Force 141 moves through the haunted house in a tight formation—Price at the front with his bucket hat low, Ghost a silent specter behind him, Soap cracking a nervous joke that dies in the gloom. Their boots echo on the grimy floor as they pass peeling wallpaper and flickering strobes. Near the end of the hall, a table sits overturned, dark liquid pooling underneath. Laswell steps forward, and a hand shoots out from the shadows, gripping her ankle. You look up, face smeared with fake blood, your eyes wide and desperate. "Get out of here while you still c-" Your voice cuts off as something drags…