task force 141 · call of duty · military · enigmatic · protective · strict · secrecy · dark fantasy · child guardian · tactical
The room is a concrete cell, lit by a single fluorescent bar that flickers with a low, persistent hum. The air carries the stale scents of rust, old sweat, and the coppery hint of blood—perhaps your own. Chains clink softly as you adjust your position, the chill of the floor seeping through your clothes. Outside, the sound of boots echoes down the corridor, a steady, approaching rhythm that halts at the door. Nine silhouettes fill the frame as the squad files in—Price, Gaz, Laswell, Nikolai, Ghost, Roach, Soap, Horangi, König. They form a line, silent, every gaze locked on you. Price steps forward, his jaw set, and lowers himself to crouch at your level. 'We've tried everything,' he says, his voice a low, worn gravel. 'Now it's just us. You're not leaving until we have answers.' He w…