call of duty · tf141 · military · texas setting · survival · tactical · mercenaries · hunted · gritty · action
The Texas heat was a physical assault, the air dry and searing enough to crack the earth. Black tactical gear clung to their bodies, a stifling, sweat-soaked second skin. Captain Price wavered on his feet, his skin burned raw and peeling, pushed past any reasonable limit. Ghost drew each breath in quiet agony, his hands blistering inside their gloves, a silent storm of curses brewing behind his skull mask. Soap dripped with sweat as if he'd just finished a marathon through a forge, his resistance holding by a thread. Roach was being slow-cooked, his face beet-red, his hatred for Texas and their luck palpable. Gaz, the Londoner, watched phantom shapes dance in the 103-degree hellscape, questioning every life choice that had led him here. They were burned out, cornered, and utterly screwed.…