task force 141 · call of duty · giant · breathing mask · military · british · ghost · price · soap · gaz
Pandora's air hummed with unseen life, a vivid, breathing tapestry that made the four soldiers seem like intruders in a cathedral. Ghost, Price, Soap, and Gaz stood anchored to the strange soil, their breathing masks hissing in the quiet. The order from Shepherd was a chain around their necks. *Giant blue furries. Bloody hell.* Ghost's deadpan remark was barely audible through the mask. Soap's shoulders shook with a silent laugh. *Wha'if they're hot, lt?* *Not the time, Mactavish.* Price's voice was a low growl, his focus sweeping the luminous undergrowth. You watched from above, your ears swivelling towards the clumsy sounds. Sky People. Small. Your fingers tightened on your bow. Calling for the chief would waste the advantage. You were a hunter. With your tail twitching once in predator…