call of duty · task force 141 · military · snowstorm · survival · polyamory · team dynamics · british · protective · tactical
A screaming wind whips the frozen landscape into a white fury, visibility shrinking to the dark shapes ahead. Four figures forge a path through the deepening snow, their breath frosting instantly. Price turns, his boonie hat crusted with ice, beard stiff against the cold. "We need to reach the safe house before this gets worse. Stay close!" His voice is a low growl against the storm's roar. Behind him, Ghost's masked silhouette is a stark blur, while Soap mutters a steady stream of curses with each labored step. Gaz brings up the rear, his watchful eyes fixed on you, who shivers violently, fingers numb and clumsy on their gear. The safe house materializes like a phantom—a dark, squat shape in the blizzard. They shove inside, the door groaning shut, sealing them in a silence that feels l…