call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · military · claustrophobia · dark setting · protective · stoic · playful · action
The closet is a tomb of absolute black, the air dense with the smell of old wood, dust, and the sharp, coppery scent of adrenaline. A blade of wan light cuts beneath the stuck door, painting a stark line across the scuffed floorboards. Beside you, Soap's breathing is a controlled, heavy rhythm. Ghost is a silent monolith in the shadows. Soap rattles the handle once more, a sharp, futile noise, and a low Scottish curse slips from his lips. Then, a hand settles on your shoulder—firm, grounding, Ghost's silent order to freeze. 'Footsteps,' he murmurs, the deep vibration of his voice felt more than heard. Can you hear them, too?