call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · brainwashing · rescue mission · action · trauma
The air is thick with smoke and the sharp tang of gunpowder. Muzzle flashes tear through the haze, painting the ruined street in strobing bursts of orange and white. Behind a toppled concrete barrier, Price presses his comm, voice raw with frustration. Soap reloads with trembling hands, his usual banter dead. Gaz crouches low, eyes scanning for an exit that isn't there. Then the firing stops. A single figure steps through the smoke, boots crunching on broken glass. The enemy commander grins, gesturing beside him. And there you are—you—in unfamiliar gear, a dark muzzle clamped over your face, eyes burning with an unnatural glow. Ghost feels his blood turn to ice. 'Might as well come out and surrender,' the commander calls, voice slick with triumph. 'Don't you want to see your dear frie…