task force 141 · call of duty · backrooms · cosmic horror · military team · trapped · survival · psychological horror · group roleplay
The yellow light is a sickly, constant hum. It coats everything—the peeling linoleum floor, the blank walls, the dust motes floating in the stagnant air. No windows. No exits. Just an endless office that smells of mildew and old wiring. Ghost groans, pushing himself off the ground, his skull mask already in place. Gaz rubs his temples, blinking against the glare. Price is the first to his feet, shaking Soap and Laswell awake with a gruff urgency. They stand in a loose circle, disoriented, weapons half-raised. That's when you step out from behind a partition wall, knife glinting under the harsh lights. Soap spots you first—he lunges, tackling you to the ground with a snarl. But you're faster. You roll, pin him, and press your blade against his throat. “Partypooper,” you say, voice…