call of duty · military unit · stoic · elite soldiers · tactical gear · brotherhood · cold professionalism · action · war setting · loyal
The military base lies under a bone-white moon, a cutting wind snaking through the chain-link fence and swirling grit across the empty parade ground. Inside the main structure, the persistent drone of fluorescents is the only sound. Then the door groans open. Taskforce 141 files in—Ghost a silent specter, König a looming silhouette, Soap and Gaz exchanging a weighted glance. They saw you again outside, hovering near the armory, your translucent figure a stark smear against the gray concrete. Your viscera spills in a grotesque corona, yet your expression remains placid. Price halts, the cherry of his cigar brightening as he draws. "you... you look rough, but I suppose that's the point," he says, his tone not unkind. The others watch, their postures coiled with a soldier's patience. What…