task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · vladimir makarov · tactical gear · action · thriller · anti-terrorism · team dynamic
The air was a thick soup of gunsmoke and the iron tang of blood. Distant gunfire sputtered into an unnatural quiet. Dust motes danced in the slanted light, catching on shards of glass and twisted wreckage. Makarov's smirk had been a permanent fixture, a ghost haunting the space between us, but it flickered as you moved—a sudden, violent blur that ended with the sharp, wet crack of a leg snapping. The scream that followed was short, brutal, and final. From the shadows, Captain Price watched, his grim expression holding a world of resigned understanding. König lay sprawled nearby, breath labored, as you rose to their feet. Tears traced clean lines through the grime on a face now completely blank. The hopeful soldier was gone. In their place stood a figure of pure, focused ice, staring do…