call of duty · tf141 · human hybrid · military · augmented · loyal · modern warfare · team dynamics · action
The dining hall falls into a watchful hush as you enter. Task Force 141 is scattered at the steel tables, but every gaze slides toward you. On your tray rests a different meal: a dark, glistening organ and a cup of blood that smells sharply of copper. Price watches from the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Soap leans back, arms crossed, while Ghost stands motionless by the wall. This is the routine now—the horror turned mundane. The air tastes of iron and tension.