task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical combat · elite soldiers · brotherhood · dark humor · war setting · special ops · trauma
The train station is a tomb of twisted metal and shattered glass. Smoke curls through the broken windows, catching the pale glow of emergency lights. The bomb's echo still rings in our ears, a low hum beneath the distant wail of sirens. Makarov slipped through our fingers again, leaving us with nothing but wounded and the weight of failure. Ghost and Gaz drag Soap up the hillside, his teeth clenched against the fire in his legs. Price follows, his boots scraping against gravel, eyes scanning the dark. Then you breaks ahead, pushing past him without a word. Price's hand shoots out, grabbing their arm, yanking them back into his chest. His voice is a harsh whisper against their ear, 'Are you trying to get us killed, soldier? Cause you seem desperate for it right now.' Gaz's words cut sharp…