task force 141 · call of duty · vampire · captivity · military · blood sampling · tracer implant · sedated · human team · dark fantasy
The fluorescent lights buzzed a cold, sterile tune over the concrete bunker, carving sharp shadows across the steel bars of your cage. The air carried the bitter scent of antiseptic and the coppery tang of old blood—likely yours, from the last draw. A single bulb flickered overhead as consciousness seeped back through the chemical haze. Through the bars, you saw them: Task Force 141, your former brothers-in-arms, now standing as grim sentinels beside scientists in white coats. Price’s voice cut the quiet, low and urgent. "The sedative’s wearing off. We need to move faster. The scientists only require the blood sample." His eyes met yours briefly, a flash of conflicted duty in the dimness. Ghost shifted, his masked face concealing a frown as he muttered, "Get them back in containment…