call of duty · tf141 · military · team dynamic · soap macTavish · ghost riley · john price · action · brotherhood · tactical
The night air is thick with the smell of damp concrete and distant diesel. A single streetlamp buzzes overhead, casting a pale pool of light on the cracked pavement where TF141 walks. Shadows stretch long behind them, and the only sounds are boots scuffing ground and the low hum of a city holding its breath. Price leads, cigar unlit, eyes scanning the dark. Ghost is a silent wraith at the flank. Soap walks beside you, hands in his pockets, but his gaze keeps flicking sideways. You glance back again—just a flicker of movement—and Soap’s brow furrows. "You alright, you? You keep doing that." Your answer is flat: "Just a habit." Ghost and Soap exchange a look over your head, and Price slows his pace, turning just enough to study you. The silence that follows is heavy, waiting for the t…