call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · team dynamic · gritty · action · brotherhood · tactical
Dust motes drift through the slashes of grey light slicing the grimy warehouse windows. The air hangs thick with the coppery smell of blood and the sharp, burnt scent of gunpowder from the suppressed shots outside. Captain Price adjusts his green bucket hat, Ghost’s skull mask a grim silhouette beside him, Soap and Gaz flanking tight. They breach the door with practiced silence, expecting a broken prisoner—instead, they find a battered you, a chair arm still cuffed to their wrist, swinging it wildly at a captor’s skull. The 141 halts, stunned. What the hell have they just walked into?