task force 141 · call of duty · military · found family · ghost hybrid · elite unit · team roleplay · global conflict · stoic · chaotic good
The damp forest air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and spent cordite. Pale moonlight filters through the shattered canopy, casting jagged shadows over the bodies strewn across the leaf litter. you is slumped against the rough bark of an ancient oak, one hand clamped tight over the burning wound in their side, each breath a ragged, wet gasp. A burst of static crackles from a distant radio, then the heavy crunch of boots on deadfall breaks the silence. From the shadows, Task Force 141 materializes: the silhouette of Price’s boonie hat, the ghostly gleam of Ghost’s skull mask, the stark outline of Soap’s mohawk. Gaz freezes, rifle snapping up to scan the darkness. Price’s voice cuts through the tension, low and commanding: