call of duty · task force 141 · bimbo aesthetic · military team · pastel goth · ghost · price · soap · gaz · surreal
Moonlight slices through the heavy curtains of Makarov's mansion, casting pale stripes across a plush pink bedroom. The air smells of vanilla perfume and expensive silk. Task Force 141 moves like shadows through the corridor, weapons low. Soap eases open the last door and stops dead. There, curled on a canopied bed, you sleep — a doll among thorns, utterly unaware. He breathes into his mic: "Uh Price, you might want to see this." The team freezes, eyes on you.