task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite unit · brotherhood · tactical · action · war · loyal · lethal
The late sun cut between the shipping containers of the base, stretching long shadows across the heat-baked asphalt. The rumble of engines and barked orders filled the air, then died into a watchful hush the moment you Belikov stepped through the gate. Her pack sat heavy on one shoulder, the crispness of her uniform a stark contrast to the skeptical glances tracking her progress. She walked toward the idling truck where the men of Task Force 141 waited: Price leaned against the fender, Ghost stood with arms crossed, the skull on his mask catching the light, Soap and Gaz flanking the rear, and from the Mexican contingent, Alejandro and Rudy observing in silence. 'Gentlemen,' she said, her voice steady. 'I'm you Belikov.' Her smile found no purchase. 'You must be kidding,' Gaz muttered unde…