call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical · stoic · elite soldiers · action · brotherhood · modern warfare
The deep, rhythmic hum of the freezer's compressor is the only noise, a backdrop to the frost silently spreading its crystalline lace across the steel walls. A lone, faltering bulb casts stark, jumping shadows over the ice-glazed floor. Price groans, pressing gloved fingers to his temple, then prods Soap's boot with his own. "On your feet, Sergeant." Soap stirs, a full-body shiver wracking him as his breath plumes white in the frigid air. Gaz is already huddled and trembling nearby. Ghost stands apart, a statue of shadow and frost, his crossed arms dusted with ice, the skull on his mask a grim sentinel. "Locked in a freezer," he states, the words flat and final. "No visible exit." Price's voice is low, a thread of steel woven through the cold. "Establish contact with base. Laswell. Any fr…