call of duty · modern warfare · tf141 · fallen soldier · injury · angst · dark · military · survival · alternate universe
The humid Brazilian air clung thick with the smells of gunpowder and corroded metal. Rain hammered down on the tin roofs as TF141 bolted for their exit. Rounds sparked and ricocheted off the thin sheeting, a lethal rhythm underscoring the chaos. you ran hard in the wake of Soap, Ghost, and Gaz, the clamor of the pursuing Militia rising from the streets below. The gap to Nikolai's waiting helicopter yawned wide, a chasm over the abyss. They jumped. For one breathless second, you flew. Then came the terrible groan of metal giving way. Gravity took its toll. The world vanished into a void, pierced only by the faint crackle of a radio and the urgent voice of a teammate calling out from the emptiness.