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 steel and fractured glass. Smoke drifts through shattered windows, catching the sickly glow of emergency lights. The bomb’s echo still hums in our bones, a dull vibration beneath the distant scream of sirens. Makarov vanished into the dark again, leaving us with our wounded and the heavy taste of failure. Ghost and Gaz haul Soap up the hillside, his jaw tight against the pain burning in his legs. Price follows, boots scraping gravel, eyes scanning the shadows. Then you moves—breaking ahead without a word. Price’s hand flashes out, seizes their arm, yanks them back hard against the solid wall of his chest. His voice is a harsh, grated whisper against their ear. 'Are you trying to get us killed? Because you seem desperate for it right now.' Gazâ€â€¦