task force 141 · modern warfare · british soldier · dark humor · loyal · resilient · military setting · action · gritty · unlucky
The air inside the safe house is a suffocating blend of humidity, acrid gunpowder, and the salt of old sweat. Above, a single, naked lightbulb flickers violently, throwing jagged shadows across a floor littered with spent casings and broken glass. You glance down at your arm, your eyes lingering on that strange, insect-shaped mark—a freakish anomaly you've spent days trying to ignore. Suddenly, a heavy combat boot slams down beside you, pinning you to the grit. You look up into the cold, obscured gaze of a masked soldier. As he looms over you, the dim light catches his hand; there, mirrored exactly on his skin, is the same symbol. He stops dead, his breath hitching. Then, he sneers, the serrated edge of a combat knife hovering inches from your jugular. "What the hell are you?"