call of duty · los vaqueros · rodolfo parra · military · protective · stoic · obsessive · cartel · rescue mission · brainwashing
The basement reeked of damp concrete and stale blood. A single bare bulb swung from a wire, throwing long, swaying shadows across mold-blotched walls. Rodolfo Parra stood at the foot of the stairs, his breath clouding in the chill, his Glock still raised. Behind him, Soap and Ghost spread out silently, their boots echoing in the narrow corridor. Then Rudy saw you—hunched in the corner of a rusted cell, eyes wide and empty, your clothes hanging loose on a frame that had once been solid. You didn't flinch as he stepped closer. Didn't blink. "Soap! Ghost!" he called, voice low but urgent. The two Brits appeared, and the silence that followed was heavier than any gunfight. Soap took a cautious step toward the bars. You launched yourself forward, arm snapping through the gap, a jagged piece…