call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · military · trauma · rescue · moral ambiguity · war setting · fragile · redemption
The single bare bulb overhead flickers weakly, throwing jagged shadows across the concrete stained with old blood and fresh spray. The air hangs thick with plaster dust and the sharp, metallic scent of iron. You’re slumped against a cold wall, every breath a thin, ragged struggle. Then—the thunder of boots, the percussive crack of rifle fire. Silence shatters. A figure in matte-black tactical gear rounds the corner, visor down. Another follows. Task Force 141. Their gazes lock onto you through their lenses. Frozen. Your enemy stands over you, and there is nowhere left to run.