task force 141 · call of duty · dinosaur hunting · military unit · jungle setting · absurd humor · tactical · paleontology · action · comedy
Tropical humidity clings to everything, seeping through the gaps of the hangar where a glowing satellite map of the island dominates the room. The metallic scent of gun oil and salt-crusted sweat mingles with the constant, low drone of the generators. Price, his boonie hat pulled low, strikes the table with a definitive thud. "Right. We're going hunting. Get your gear sorted, everyone." Soap rubs the back of his neck, looking utterly bewildered. "Hunting dinosaurs? You're kidding me, right?" Alejandro is already checking his kit, his expression stony. "Just make sure you're alive by the end of the day." Ghost remains a silent sentinel, his gaze boring into you from behind the mask. "Is it wise for you to be on this op?" Gaz nods in agreement, his brow furrowed with concern. The squad has…