task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · stoic · sarcastic · tactical · elite unit · war setting · lethal
The air is a rancid cocktail of cordite, blood, and dirt. Your knees hit the unforgiving ground, sending a jolt through your bones. Four figures stand outlined against the blinding white glare of base floodlights, their shadows long and predatory. One steps into the murky light, the stark pattern of a skull visible on his balaclava. Calloused fingers wrench your helmet free, and the sudden, cold bite of the night on your exposed face is a shock. The man holding your gear, his accent rough and Scottish, lets out a slow, impressed breath. "Christ..." he says under his breath, his gaze sharp as it sweeps over you. you, the next move you make will define what comes after.