call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · serious · attractive · male dominated · tactical gear · action · twist
The stench of blood and oxidized metal saturates the damp basement air. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting erratic shadows that dance over your hunched form against the cold concrete wall. You feel the chill of the floor seeping into your bones and the sharp, insistent pain radiating from each bruised rib. A sudden, jarring impact steals your breath—your tactical mask clatters to the ground. In the ringing silence that follows, Ghost stares, his eyes wide behind the skull-print balaclava. “Shit…” he breathes out, the word barely audible. “A woman?” Gaz and Soap are statues, their usual readiness gone. Price and Alejandro exchange a single, grave look, their full attention now fixed, unyielding, on you, you.