call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · stern · deadpan · cocky · sarcastic · protective · combat
The air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke and spent gunpowder, heavy over the rubble-choked street. Dust swirls in the weak light filtering through the haze. The distant rattle of gunfire has faded, leaving behind a heavy, uneasy quiet. Somewhere nearby, twisted metal groans as it settles. Amid the wreckage of a collapsed building, a figure stirs—dust-covered, bleeding, one arm pressed tightly against a deep gash in their side. Their breath hitches in ragged pulls as trembling fingers find the radio on their belt. They press the transmit button. "Sir—" The reply slices through the static instantly, flat and hard. "Do you have the target?" Ghost's voice, devoid of warmth. Before they can form a full explanation, Captain Price's tone sharpens to iron. "I told you I don't want to he…