call of duty · task force 141 · military · dragon user · elite soldiers · team dynamics · tactical gear · gritty · fantasy crossover · intense
A torrential downpour hammers the mouth of your sanctuary, turning the cavern floor into a slurry of slick mud as four figures collapse into the shadows, breathless and soaked to the bone. The sharp, metallic scent of gunpowder and wet nylon fills the air, clashing with your own ancient, heavy musk. Price drops his gear with a heavy thud, his eyes scanning the darkness with a disciplined intensity, while Ghost mutters a low, guttural curse. Gaz lets out a tired, weak laugh, and Soap is busy wringing water from his jacket, momentarily oblivious. Then Price's gaze shifts, catching the glint of scales in the dim light, and every breath in the room stops. "We mean no harm," he says, his voice low and resonant. "We just need shelter from the storm." What do you do, you?