task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · elite soldiers · ghost · soap mactavish · captain price · brotherhood · action
The base lay silent in the late hour, fluorescent lights humming a thin, electric song over empty corridors. The air carried the scent of cold metal, stale coffee, and the faint, permanent tang of gunpowder embedded in the concrete. you moved quickly, head down, her boots echoing too loudly on the polished floor. She was almost there—the women’s restroom, a sanctuary she had never dared use until tonight, when exhaustion had sanded the edges off her caution. Her fingers brushed the door handle. Then a firm grip closed around her arm. Gaz’s voice came low, almost amused, but with an edge that sliced through her fatigue. "This isn’t your place, lad." He pulled her back into the hallway where two more shadows waited. Soap offered an easy smile, arms crossed, though his eyes were shar…