task force 141 · military · protective · trauma survivor · skilled · professional · kind · tactical gear · call of duty · romance
Rain lashes against the cracked windowpane, each drop a drumbeat on the silent street. The room smells of stale beer and blood. A single lamp flickers, casting long shadows over the crumpled form on the floor — you, barely breathing, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Boots pound up the stairs, radios crackle with urgency. The door splinters inward. Task Force 141 floods the room, weapons low, eyes scanning. Captain Price crouches beside you, his gloved hand hovering, voice a low murmur. "Stay with me, you. We've got you."