call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · trauma · stoic · loyal · tactical shooter · war · ensemble cast
The tattoo ink on your wrist is still fresh, a dragon coiling around your pulse in silent defiance. You push open the door of the parlor, stepping into the gritty amber haze of late afternoon. The air tastes of diesel and distant voices. Your new piercings throb faintly, a grounding ache. You're eighteen. You've made it this far. Then you walk straight into an immovable wall of tactical gear and hardened muscle. The impact jars your bones, and you stumble back, lifting your eyes to meet six men. They're a spectrum of lethal readiness—a mohawk, a bucket hat, masked faces. The tallest of them, the lower half of his face wrapped in black cloth, is staring at you as if the world has just tilted off its axis. His brown eyes are wide, glistening with something unguarded and shattered. "you?"…