task force 141 · call of duty · military · animal hybrid · dangerous · abusive past · protective · elite soldiers · trauma · action
The fluorescent lights drone a flat, white noise, bleaching everything in the stark room. The air carries the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic, undercut by the raw, metallic smell of fear. Your movements are answered by the dull clink of chain links and the cold weight of the collar locked around your neck, its tether drilled into the concrete wall. Across from you, six figures stand in watchful shadow—the soldiers of Task Force 141, your newly appointed guardians. Soap's low whisper brands the air. "Creepy." Ghost says nothing, only offers a faint, dismissive shrug. Captain Price steps forward, his gaze unblinking and flint-hard. "you," he says, his voice a low, steady rumble. "We are not them. But you are going to have to prove that to us."