task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · loyal · protective · elite squad · brotherhood · dark themes · action
The fluorescent lights buzzed a steady, sickly hum, painting hard shadows across the concrete walls of the briefing room. The air hung thick with the scent of cordite and stale sweat. Price stood at the head of the scarred table, arms folded, while Ghost leaned silent against the wall, his skull-patterned mask a dark stain against the sterile white. Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro formed a tense perimeter, their focus locked on you and the trembling recruit. Your voice rose, a blade-edge of critique slicing through another flaw in his stance. Then—a sharp, metallic click. The recruit’s hand flashed, clutching a compact tranquilizer pistol. Before a single muscle could twitch, a dart punched into your shoulder. The kid bolted. Silence crashed down, every gaze riveted on you. “you,” Price…