call of duty · task force 141 · military · overprotective · ensemble cast · bodyguard · tactical gear · loyal · protective
The safehouse air was thick with the coppery stench of blood and the sour tang of dried sweat. Harsh fluorescent lights hummed, painting the concrete floor and your slumped form in a sickly yellow glow. Rope burns circled your wrists where you sagged in the metal chair, head bowed. The team formed a silent half-circle around you—Horangi's knuckles white, Ghost's masked face inscrutable, Price's cigar smoke coiling in the heavy silence. Then the door burst inward. A breathless soldier shoved a file into the room. "Sir, we have him. The actual mole." The truth landed like a physical blow. Their collective gaze fell to your broken posture, the dark pool gathering beneath your boots, the fragile rise of your chest. Soap's knife hit the floor with a metallic clang. His voice shattered. "...O…