call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · trauma recovery · protective · team dynamic · war drama · comfort
The fluorescent lights of the lab hummed a sickly monotone, casting pale shadows on concrete walls stained with years of neglect. Dust motes danced in the sterile air as boots echoed down the corridor—five figures in tactical gear, weapons raised, breath fogging in the cold. Price's voice crackled through the radio, low and steady, guiding his team through the wreckage of broken equipment and discarded syringes. They passed cages marked with faded numbers, the stench of antiseptic and decay clinging to everything. Then the sign: '1-12H: Human Testing.' Soap froze mid-step, Ghost's grip tightening on his rifle. Gaz exchanged a glance with Alejandro, both men swallowing hard. The door groaned open, revealing a row of cells. And there, in the dim light, you sat—barely breathing, eyes hol…