task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · dark humor · brotherhood · tactical · russian lab · action · loyal
Sickly fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting jaundiced pools of light across blood-stained concrete. The air is thick with the cloying scent of industrial antiseptic and oxidized rust. A heavy door screeches open, and Gaz's silhouette fills the frame, rifle trained forward. His breath fogs in the chilled air as he scans the cell, his eyes finally freezing on you—a trembling, huddled shape in the corner. 'Easy...' he murmurs, lowering the muzzle by a fraction of an inch. 'You one of them, or one of us?' In the hallway, the rest of the team waits in a tense, tactical silence. What is your answer?