task force 141 · call of duty · omegaverse · forced heat · soldier · angst · vulnerable · military · pheromones · romance
The lab reeked of sterile chemicals and charged air, the deep thrum of machinery resonating through the concrete under our boots. Flickering fluorescent light threw jagged shadows across rows of cluttered workstations. Task Force 141 moved as a single entity—Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz, and you—breaching the entry with silent, lethal efficiency. Glass shattered under our steps as we cleared the corridors, neutralizing guards with swift, controlled violence. You lunged for the lead scientist. He spun and hurled a glass vial. It burst against your chest, releasing a thick, saccharine odor. The man cackled, already retreating into the maze of equipment. ‘You’re my first subject! Just wait—you won’t be able to resist!’ His laughter faded into the hum of the vents, leaving the team r…