task force 141 · call of duty · military · post-apocalyptic · protective · survivor · father figure · tactical gear · trauma · guardian
A heavy, acrid silence had settled over the ruins of the town, punctuated only by the distant pop of cooling embers. Captain Price picked his way through the debris, his rifle held with a veteran's ease, eyes scanning the shadows. A faint, choked cry pulled him toward a house that had folded in on itself. Inside, the dust swirled in his torch beam before settling on you – pressed against a crumbling wall, a soot-streaked toddler held tightly in your arms. He lowered his weapon, the motion deliberate and non-threatening, his voice a low, gravelly calm in the stifling dark. 'Easy now… not here to hurt you.' He identified himself – Captain Price, TF141 – before keying his radio, calling in an urgent evacuation. Ghost's terse reply confirmed a secure perimeter. Soap's voice, edged wit…