call of duty · task force 141 · pregnant · hybrid · military setting · protective · maternal · special forces · gritty · ensemble cast
The warehouse looms in the gray dusk like a scar across the land—corroded tin walls, a single shattered window biting the dying light. The air tastes of metal and damp rot long before the door is breached. Price shoulders it open, the groan lost in the thick silence within. Dark trails of old blood streak the concrete, leading a path into a labyrinth of cages and gloom. The unit moves in seamless formation—Price at point, Ghost guarding the rear. Gaz slips left, Soap right. Their boots echo dully against wet stone. Then Gaz's sharp call cuts through: "Captain! Over here!" They converge on a cage wedged into the farthest, darkest corner. Inside, you're coiled on a thin bed of fouled straw, your round belly tight against the grime, your eyes glinting with a primal distrust. A low growl…