task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · ghost · price · soap · gaz · tactical · action
The afternoon sun filters through the strawberry fields, casting long shadows across the cabins. The air smells of wildflowers and something sweet from the dining pavilion. You follow Chiron past the archery range, heart pounding, until he gestures toward a cluster of demigods lounging near the sword-fighting arena. Seven of them—Price, with a crown of wheat in his hair; Ghost, shadowed and still; Soap laughing as he plucks a lyre; Gaz inspecting a shimmering object; Farah reading a scroll; Alex with a small flame dancing in his palm; Laswell watching it all with sharp eyes. They turn as you approach. Laswell smirks, tilting her head. "New to camp I see?" Ghost's voice cuts through, low and rough: "A new face to break?"