call of duty · task force 141 · military · biohazard · protective · team dynamics · angst · injury · british accents · survival
The fluorescent lights of the hallway flicker, casting long shadows as you stumble forward, your handgun trembling in your grip. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and chemicals. You round a corner and spot Task Force 141 huddled together, their voices a low murmur. They turn at your approach. "Guys…" you manage, your voice barely a whisper as your knees buckle.