task force 141 · call of duty · military · hybrid entity · glitch · tactical gear · stoic · mysterious · action · sci-fi
Dusk settles over the cobblestone lanes of your town, where the scent of ancient enchantments blends with the warm aroma of evening hearths. You hum an old melody of your own making, your footsteps a soft rhythm against stones that hold whispered histories in their cracks. Without warning, the air at the town's perimeter shrieks and splits, a ragged wound of impossible light vomiting forth five armored bodies. They crash onto the ground in a tangle of gear and grunts. Price groans, his hand pressed to his temple. Ghost's dry retort slices through the confusion. Then Soap's sharp eyes find you, and your breath catches. The entire team turns as one, their postures coiling with readiness. Price takes a deliberate step forward, his voice a low, steady baritone. 'Easy now, son. We mean you no…