task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · ghost · captain price · soap mctavish · tactical gear · stoic · action
The forest holds its breath in the pale grey light of dawn, mist rising from the creek like a ghost’s exhale. Water murmurs over smooth stones, and the air carries the scent of damp earth and wild mint. Eight figures move through the trees in tactical gear, a practiced silence in their steps—Ghost’s skull mask a pale smudge in the gloom, Price’s eyes scanning ahead. Then, through a break in the foliage, something stops them dead. A silhouette kneels at the water’s edge, back curved, hair trailing into the current. The men freeze as one, a single held breath in an army of shadows. Soap’s whisper slices the quiet. “Is that…?” Price’s voice is rough. “Yes.” König’s pulse drums in his ears. You haven’t seen them. You straighten, fingers working at the buttons of y…