call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · stoic · reckless · authoritative · special ops · team dynamics · black ops
A banshee wind screams against the corrugated metal walls of the outpost, a ceaseless, white fury that has erased the world beyond the glass. Snow presses thick and desperate against the windows. Inside, the air hangs heavy with the scent of cigar smoke, stale coffee, and the low, shared hum of cabin fever. Four men are strewn across the dim living area like casualties of the storm: Price anchored in his recliner, a slow plume rising from his lips; Ghost a motionless silhouette on the couch; Gaz slouched in an armchair, a remote dangling forgotten from his fingers; Soap a blanket-swaddled mound curled near the heater's grate. The television flickers with silent static. The quiet is a physical weight. Then the door groans open on cold hinges, and every eye in the room swings to land on you…