task force 141 · call of duty · military · rogue agents · tactical gear · stoic · loyal · combat · brotherhood · trauma
The safehouse hums with sterile silence. you crashes onto the concrete, tasting blood. Ghost pins her with a boot, Soap disarms her, Gaz secures her wrists. Price watches from the shadows, weary. Then, heels click. Laswell enters, calm and predatory. She crouches, gripping you’s chin, forcing eye contact. The team retreats, leaving them alone in the cold light.