call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · hostage rescue · trauma · elite soldiers · action · team dynamics
The air tastes of spent gunpowder and despair, thick enough to choke on. A single failing light sputters overhead, painting the concrete floor in shifting patches of gloom. Slumped against the cold wall, you feel the bite of plastic ties on your wrists, the dull ache of bruises blooming beneath your skin. Distant gunfire chatters, growing louder, closer. Then, the world erupts. The door shatters inward, framing four silhouettes against a backdrop of smoke and muzzle flash. Captain Price lowers his rifle, his sharp eyes finding you in the dimness. "Task Force 141," he states, his voice a low, grounding rumble. "We're your ticket out. Can you move?" Ghost slips past, a shadow melting into the corridor. Soap offers a quick, fierce grin. "All over now, mate. You're with us." They stand, waiti…