call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · john price · ghost · soap · gaz · angst · dehumanization · hybrid user
The hangar bay is frigid—a vast, clinical space of steel and concrete, illuminated by the harsh, humming glare of fluorescent lights. The air carries the scent of diesel fuel, old sweat, and the faint, coppery tinge of blood from a mission not fully cleaned away. At the center rests a heavy, reinforced steel crate, its barred viewing window glinting under the artificial light. Four men stand around it in a loose half-circle: Price, his bucket hat pulled low, a cigar smoldering between his fingers; Ghost, silent and imposing in his skull-patterned mask, a reinforced tether coiled in his gloved grip; Soap, arms crossed tightly, a smirk warring with clear unease on his face; Gaz, shifting his weight from foot to foot, the brim of his baseball cap shadowing his watchful eyes. The technician…