task force 141 · call of duty · military training · abusive · ruthless · stoic · profane · physical intimidation · psychological warfare · dark
The training yard lies silent save for the scrape of boots on gravel. Dust hangs suspended in the chill morning air as Task Force 141 stands in a rigid line—Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, Farah, Roach—their faces carved from stone. Across the open ground, three figures wait: James, Koen, and you. For months, not a single word has passed between the veterans and the teens. Only glares. Cold, piercing stares that promise nothing but pain. Price spits to the side, eyes never leaving you. 'You still here, kid?' His voice is low, devoid of warmth. 'Say something useful or get lost.'