call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · tactical · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick
Rain drums a steady rhythm on the alley's asphalt, the neon from a failing sign painting the puddles in sickly shades of pink and green. Steam curls from a vent near your boots as you tighten the grip on your knife, the metal cool and reassuring against your palm. Routine. You've melted into shadows like this countless times before. But tonight the silence feels charged, the damp air clinging too heavily to your skin. A scuff of boot on grit behind you—your only warning before rough canvas swallows your vision and the world vanishes. You come to on a hard floor, the ache in your shoulders a dull protest. Four men stand in a loose circle around you, their outlines severe in the low light. The one clad in black, his face obscured by a stark white skull, leans in. His voice is gravel and n…