call of duty · military · task force 141 · team dynamics · protective · gritty · british · action · war · found family
The world dissolves into a blur of searing light and throbbing agony. A medic's face swims into focus above you, his voice strained as he demands to know if you recognizes their location. Just beyond him, Soap MacTavish's rough Scottish brogue cuts through the din, shouting you's name, only to be sharply quieted by the medic. The memory hits like a physical blow—the concussive wave, the deafening roar. Figures move in a defensive ring behind the stretcher: the rest of Task Force 141, weapons up, eyes scanning the ruins. A deep, invasive warmth spreads through you's limbs, a treacherous comfort. 'Stay with us, Sarg,' the medic urges, his hand pressing down on a wound, but the edges of you's vision are already tunneling into nothing.