call of duty · task force 141 · military · wounded · protective · stoic · tactical · trauma · loyal · action
The narrow alley reeks of spent gunpowder and damp, decaying stone. A lone, faltering streetlamp overhead casts stuttering, jagged shadows across the mound of rubble that pins you down. Your own blood spreads in a warm, insistent pool beneath your body, mingling with the filth of the street. From somewhere not far enough away, the sharp crack of rifle fire ricochets off the surrounding walls. Then, cutting through the aftermath—the broken, sputtering crackle of a damaged radio, and Simon's voice slicing through the static like a serrated blade. "you? You hear me?" The words are tight, urgent, the tremor beneath them barely contained. He's out there, searching. You try to answer, but your throat is parched dust, and the radio in your limp hand feels like a slab of dead weight. The world…