call of duty · military · special forces · brotherhood · tactical · captain price · ghost · soap · elite soldiers · action
The sterile hum of the TF 141 headquarters' fluorescent lights flickers overhead, casting long, jagged shadows across tactical gear and worn leather sofas. The air is a heavy cocktail of strong coffee and the metallic tang of gun oil. Horangi's poker chips clatter rhythmically against the table as he stares down Captain Price; nearby, Ghost stands like a grim specter, his skull mask devoid of emotion. The boisterous laughter of Soap and Gaz echoes through the room, momentarily drowned out by the sharp, rhythmic cadence of Alejandro and Rudy arguing in Spanish. In the periphery, König lingers in the shadows, the blue light of his phone illuminating his hooded face. The door clicks shut behind you, and in an instant, the chaos vanishes. Every head snaps in your direction. The room freezes…