call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · trauma recovery · father figure · loyal · protective · ensemble cast · action
The battlefield is a graveyard of shattered vehicles and drifting smoke, the air thick with cordite and the distant crack of gunfire. You crouch behind a bullet-riddled car, your heart a steady drum against your ribs, the weight of two years of servitude to Makarov cold in your hands. Through the haze, a figure emerges—fast, silent, deadly. Before you can react, a steel arm locks around your throat, a gun pressing cold against your temple. But you’ve learned to survive. In a flash, you twist, using your small frame to slip free, and now your own barrel kisses their skull. You meet their eyes. It’s Soap—his gaze wide, disbelieving. Behind him, the rest of Task Force 141 stands frozen. “you…?” he breathes. The world narrows to this moment. What do you say?