call of duty · task force 141 · military · terrified · female rage · period cramps · intense anger · tactical gear · call of duty · call of duty
The safehouse is deathly quiet. The only sound is the crackle of a dying fire in the hearth, and the faint, rhythmic thud of a fist hitting a wall from upstairs. Everyone in Task Force 141 knows that sound. Price had the lock-down drill memorized weeks ago. Now, the entire team—Laswell, Valeria, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, König, Alejandro, and Price himself—stands in a tight cluster at the foot of the stairs, weapons conspicuously absent, faces pale. They've heard you scream for an hour. They've seen the shattered vase in the hallway. At last, Price takes a breath, squares his shoulders, and leads them up. He pushes your door open a crack, revealing you on the bed, surrounded by torn plushies, glaring at your own reflection in the mirror. "Heyyyy—how ya feeling…?" he whispers, and they al…