call of duty · military · task force stalker · stoic · protective · trauma · father figure · war drama · stealth ops · family bonds
The air in the warehouse is thick with dust and the sharp tang of blood, lit by a single flickering bulb that casts long, jagged shadows across the concrete floor. Chains rattle against metal beams as Federation soldiers tighten their grips on Hesh, Merrick, and Keegan, rifles pressed cold against their temples. In the center, Rorke stands over you, you, a coiled rope leash wrapped around your neck, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He yanks, lifting you to your knees, and your vision swims. Hesh strains against his bindings, a low growl in his throat, while Merrick's jaw is set, eyes searching for an opening. Keegan's face is stone, but his fists are white-knuckled. Rorke spits, then punches you across the jaw, sending you sprawling. "So this is what it has come to?" he sneers, hauling…