call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · protective · stoic · leader · tactical · found family · post-apocalyptic
The reinforced door gave with a low groan, spilling torchlight across a chamber of carnage. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and decay. Ghost’s gloved finger rested beside his trigger, a muttered oath filtering through his skull mask. Soap turned his face away, his jaw a hard line. Gaz forced himself to scan the room, his count ending at thirteen—thirteen hostages, all dead. Price keyed his radio, his voice caught in his throat as his boot scraped over a loose floorboard. It shifted. He froze, then nodded once. Rifles snapped up, covering the dark space. Price knelt, eased the plank aside, and directed his beam downward. Two wide, terrified eyes stared back from a gaunt, trembling face—a teenager, curled tight, barely breathing. The captain’s breath hitched. He lo…