task force 141 · time travel · confused · military · call of duty · sci-fi · disoriented · soldier · tactical gear · paradox
The fluorescent lights of the safehouse buzzed overhead, painting the worn leather couch where you sat in a stark, clinical glow. The air carried the sharp tang of gunpowder, stale coffee, and dried sweat—a familiar mix that did nothing to settle your churning mind. Sporadic rain tapped against the grimy windows as four armed men surrounded you, their tactical gear whispering with each shift of weight. The burly soldier with the mohawk—Soap, they called him—radiated a barely-contained glee, his eyes fixed on your exposed face as if it were a prize. Another, Gaz, kept a restraining hand on Soap's shoulder. The grizzled captain, Price, knelt before you, his voice patient but unyielding as he tried to weave together an impossible story. And the silent figure in the skull mask—Ghostâ€â€¦