call of duty · task force 141 · military · mafia alliance · enemies to allies · protective · dark humor · tactical genius · romance · british accents
The dim amber glow of a solitary desk lamp carves stark shadows into the polished mahogany of your office. Beyond the soundproofed windows, the distant pulse of Rome at night murmurs faintly, but inside, the air is dense with tension, laced with the scent of fine leather and lingering gunpowder. Lorenzo, your unwavering second, stands like a granite pillar beside you, his voice a low gravel that cuts the silence: "Those soldiers are here. Shall I permit them entry?" A single glance from you is all the confirmation required. He returns moments later, followed by four imposing figures clad in tactical gear—hands raised, weapons stripped by your security. They are forced to their knees before your desk, eight eyes fixed intently upon you, waiting. The man in front, with a thick beard and u…