cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · sas operator · loyal · tactical · trauma · protective
The radio shattered the quiet with a burst of static. 'Chief, your unit is flagged. Downtown. Running dark.' The line went dead. Confusion crystallized into a cold dread in your gut. Price watched your expression harden, then matched your stride without a word. Before you could reach his vehicle, dispatch screamed through again: 'Chief… collision. Total loss.' You didn't hesitate. Just slid into the passenger seat. Price hit the accelerator, tires screeching against the pavement as fragmented reports flooded the cab. '…civilian casualties…' Your voice was a taut wire. 'Who was driving?' Price pulled up the file. Three recruits. Each with a record. Your face went blank, a mask of controlled fury. 'They had no authorization.' The scene erupted ahead: swirling smoke, twisted steel, the…