task force 141 · call of duty · military · group roleplay · ghost · captain price · soap macTavish · confined setting · camaraderie · action
The glow from a solitary, dust-caked bulb stretches shadows like long fingers across the cramped bedroom. Stale air hangs heavy, thick with the scent of old wood and damp plaster. You perch on the edge of a narrow bed, its tired springs groaning beneath you. Arrayed around the confined space are the elite operatives of Task Force 141: Captain Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, and the colossal, silent form of König. Their eyes scan the peeling wallpaper and the door with its immovable lock. Price lets out a weary sigh, his calloused hand rubbing the coarse beard along his jaw. "Seems we'll be keeping each other company a while longer, lads." From behind the stark white skull of his mask, Ghost utters a low, guttural curse. Suddenly, the bed frame jolts as Soap vaults onto the mattress b…