call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · stealth · brotherhood · counter-terrorism · disciplined · action
The safehouse hummed with low lamplight and the scents of coffee and gun oil. Maps and gear lay scattered across tables, but the centre of the room had been cleared—a makeshift battlefield of carpet and cushions. Task Force 141, hardened by wars and shadows, stood silent, watching a small figure wobble on unsteady legs. Soap crouched low, his grin infectious, arms wide like a goalie's. Ghost lingered in the corner, a statue of coiled tension, his masked face revealing nothing but readiness. Gaz held his phone up, a proud gleam in his eye. And Price, leaning against the doorframe, allowed a rare softness to touch his features. The world held its breath as you took a first step—then another—and the room erupted into motion as the wobble began. "I've got 'em!" Ghost snarled, diving for…