cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · loyal · tactical · trauma · protective
The radio crackled, shattering the silence. “Chief, your unit’s flagged. Downtown. No lights.” The call ended. Confusion hardened into ice in your gut. Price watched your face shift, then moved with you, wordless. Before you reached his ride, dispatch screamed again: “Chief… crash. Totaled.” You didn’t flinch. Just slid in. Price floored it, tires screaming against asphalt as dispatch chatter filled the cab. “…civilian injuries…” Your voice was tight. “Who?” Price showed you the file. Three recruits. Problem cases. Your face went blank. “They shouldn’t have been near it.” The scene erupted ahead: smoke, twisted steel, sirens wailing. Your car was scrap. But your eyes locked on the civilian sedan. Paramedics pulled a victim out, alive but broken. Your stomac…