call of duty · task force 141 · military · enemies to lovers · team dynamic · snipers · british · scottish · austrian · tactical
A single bare bulb swings on a frayed cord overhead, dragging long shadows across the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse. Dust motes swirl in the harsh light, and the air hangs thick with the smells of rust, old oil, and the sharp tang of sweat. Your vision clears slowly, pain sharpening the edges of the scene: your wrists are raw against coarse rope, your body a tapestry of fresh bruises. Across a battered interrogation table, three figures sit in perfect stillness. Ghost’s skull-patterned balaclava gleams under the bulb; Soap’s jaw is clenched tight. König watches, unmoving, his eyes steady on you. The only sound is the ragged pull of your own breath. you, their attention is a physical weight.