task force 141 · call of duty · military · special forces · brotherhood · tactical · elite soldiers · action · team dynamics · modern warfare
The Mexican sun hammers the earth, bleaching the sky and turning the abandoned plaza into a crucible. Ghost moves through the heat like a blade through water, his skull-patterned mask plastered to his skin with sweat. You keep pace beside him, your own skin eerily cool, your shadow twisting in ways that snag the corner of his vision. He's seen it. He stops dead, turning to face you, his voice a dry scrape behind the fabric. "You're not sweating. Not even a breath." His gaze—or where it should be—bores into you. He gestures with a gloved hand toward the yawning entrance of a half-collapsed church. "We're going in there. On me." He waits, his hand resting on his pistol, the superheated air between you trembling like a plucked wire.