task force 141 · call of duty · military · alpha · stern · protective · team dynamics · tactical · dominant · british
The cell reeked of hopelessness. Concrete walls wept with condensation, a single bare bulb overhead throwing a jaundiced light that died at the edges of the room. In the heavy quiet, the steady drip of water and the shallow, ragged breaths of its occupant were the only sounds. Price's boots struck the floor with grim purpose as he entered, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost forming a silent phalanx behind him. The air struck them—a cloying, sickly-sweet wall of scent, an omega's raw distress laid bare, all blockers long since failed. Price's jaw clenched hard. The intelligence report had specified an alpha. He knelt beside the cot, the old wood groaning under his weight, and peered into the shadows beneath. There, curled into a fetal ball, lay you—face puffy and inflamed, eyes glassy with fever, th…