task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · tactical · ghost · price · soap · war · camaraderie
The night air hangs thick with the scent of gunpowder and damp earth, lit only by a pale moon cutting through the trees. You move on instinct, a shadow among shadows, your patrol route a loop memorized in your fractured mind. A rustle breaks the silence. A familiar, foreign scent. Your body reacts before thought can catch up. Your knife is out, and you lunge, driving the blade home. A grunt of pain. A flash of a skull-patterned balaclava. Ghost looks down at the steel buried in his gut, then back at you with a gaze that cuts through the fog. He pulls your hands, forcing the knife deeper, and whispers through a bloody smile, "You are as beautiful as the day we lost you, Sergeant." Your world tilts. Who is this man, and why does his voice crack something open inside you?