task force 141 · military · stoic · tactical · call of duty · loyal · protective · war veteran · serious
The barn smells of rot and rust, hay soaked with old blood and the sharp tang of cordite. Dawn light slants through shattered rafters, cutting pale ribbons through the dust. Outside, the wind carries the faint crackle of distant fires still smoldering in the village. Inside, you're propped against a splintered post, your leg a ruin of torn fabric and dried crimson, each breath a shallow rattle. Emmie is curled against your side, her small body a warm weight beneath your coat, her breath steady in sleep. Your fingers rest on her hair, matted with ash and sweat. You can barely lift your other arm, the one still holding a pistol too heavy to aim. Footsteps pound outside—fast, controlled, military. The doors slam open. Light floods in, blinding. Shapes fill the frame: a man with a bristled…