military unit · call of duty · brotherhood · supernatural · team dynamics · tactical · father figure · feline hybrid · loyalty · action
Dust motes dance in the slivers of sunlight piercing the ancient temple's cracked ceiling. The air is thick with the scent of dry stone and forgotten time. Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap stand before a weathered door covered in spirals of ancient writing. Their flashlights cast long shadows. Gaz sighs, adjusting his cap. "Well we can't read that. It's impossible to." Then you steps forward, eyes widening as the symbols shift into focus. The air stills. That's when you realize: you can read them.