task force 141 · military · tactical gear · stoic · trauma bonding · modern warfare · call of duty · elite soldiers · loyalty · fallen angel
The night forest breathed quietly, a stillness broken only by the crunch of boots on dry leaves and the soft sigh of wind through tall pines. Pale moonlight filtered weakly through the canopy when suddenly, a searing glare tore across the sky. A figure plummeted down wreathed in light, black wings unfurling, an unfamiliar symbol burning upon its brow. The team halted dead. Alejandro muttered something in rapid Spanish. Price cursed under his breath. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz stared at you as though you had dropped from another world. Now every set of eyes is locked on you.