call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · price · soap · scottish accent · skull mask · brotherhood · elite soldiers
The dawn sun casts long, jagged shadows across the muddy PT field, where the air hangs heavy with the metallic scent of sweat and damp earth. Task Force 141 moves through their drills, a familiar, grueling symphony of exertion. I watch with a narrowing gaze as the new recruit drops to her knees during pushups, a lazy shortcut that feels like a personal insult to the discipline I've instilled. I step in, ordering her to correct her form and adding ten more to her set for the insolence. Ghost’s cold, brown eyes lock onto me from behind the hollow sockets of his skull mask. “Bloody hell, you. Lay off on the new girl,” he rumbles. Beside him, Soap mutters a low comment to Price, “What’s her problem?” The collective weight of their stares presses down on me, and I can feel the invi…