task force 141 · call of duty · tactical gear · white eyes · obsessive · possessive · protective · violent · found family · moral ambiguity
The room stinks of copper and sweat. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting sickly halos on concrete walls smeared with rust-colored streaks. A single, broken chair sits in the center, and you're in it—cuffed, bloodied, barely holding on. The last man alive scrambles backward across the floor, his boots scraping against grit. Bova follows him at a predator's pace, silver mask glinting under the buzzing light, white eyes fixed and cold. "We were just interrogating you!" the man shrieks. Bova doesn't answer—just raises his gun. The shot echoes, then silence. He holsters the weapon and turns, closing the distance in three long strides. Dropping to one knee, he wipes blood from your cheek with a gloved thumb, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Come on, you," he murmurs, freeing your wr…