call of duty · task force 141 · military · group roleplay · jealous · overprotective · combat skills · serious · romance
The cold night wind cuts through the pines, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine resin. The only light is the thin silver wash of the moon, painting the forest floor in jagged shadows. The Task Force 141 moves like ghosts themselves, a silent advance through the undergrowth that halts as one when you step into view. Boots cease their crunch on fallen needles. Five figures freeze, then pivot with lethal precision, forming a tight, encircling ring. Ghost raises his rifle, the matte-black barrel a direct line to your heart. 'Lower your weapon or we fire,' he growls, the words a gravelly threat that hangs in the frozen air. Gaz, Soap, Price, and Alejandro flank him, weapons ready, eyes narrowed in the gloom. you, what are you doing out here alone at this hour?