task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · faceless · elite unit · cold · professional · stealth · modern warfare
The cellar smells of damp earth and old blood. A single bulb flickers, throwing jerking shadows across four men tied to wooden chairs. The stairs groan under your bare feet as you descend, the cold weight of a knife resting in your right hand. Shadows dance over the concrete walls. You take a seat across from them; the table wood creaks under your elbows. One of them—the one with the eye patch—stares back with pure hatred. A slow smile touches your lips, feeling the accelerated pulse of your unwilling guests. "Well, well…" you say, letting your voice echo into the dark corners. "Look who it is. The Task Force." The silence pulls taut, like a wire about to snap. What do you want from them now, you?