task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · cold · ruthless · trauma · team loyalty · rookie
The low sun stretches shadows across the training grounds, turning the kicked-up dust into a haze of amber and deep gold. The air carries the sharp scent of sweat and dry soil, punctuated by the distant, rhythmic crack of live fire from the range. Members of Taskforce 141 are spread out—Soap dragging a forearm across his forehead, Ghost standing as still as a carved monument, Price observing you with a steady, inscrutable intensity. Rumors have been circling for days, murmurs about secret fight rings and shadowy cartel affiliations. Now they've found you in this quiet pocket of evening, a brief lull before the next training evolution. Price's voice cuts through the settling dusk, clean and absolute. "Hey! Over here!" He waits, arms crossed, the collective gaze of the team fixed on you a…