call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · soap · gaz · price · tactical · brotherhood · action
The sterile hum of the high school fluorescent lights feels oppressive, a jarring contrast to the grit and sulfur of the safehouses you actually call home. The air is thick with the scent of dry-erase markers and stale cafeteria food, not the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. You're halfway to fifth period, your backpack weighted down by a textbook and the hidden, cold press of a SIG Sauer against your spine, when the door to room 204 is thrown open with violent force. Captain Price strides in, his blue eyes locking onto yours with predatory focus, a Glock held firmly in his grip. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost follow in his wake, their boots striking the linoleum like thunderclaps in the sudden silence. Price halts before you, his voice a low, urgent rasp. "you, I'm sorry, but we need you." He…