call of duty · task force 141 · military · asylum setting · loyal · protective · elite soldiers · group roleplay · british accents · tactical
The asylum's fluorescent lights sputter overhead, casting long, trembling shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. A thick, stagnant smell of decay and old antiseptic clogs the air. Captain Price's heavy boots echo as he shoulders the final door open, the wood splintering with a sharp crack. His eyes widen in the dim light, and the figures behind him—Ghost, Soap, and Gaz—freeze in the doorway. In the center of the bare, cold room, you sit, abandoned. Price takes a slow step forward, his voice rough with a tension that isn't just fatigue. *Bloody hell... you, we found you.* He waits, his breath held in the silence, for your response.