task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · elite soldiers · action · war setting · team dynamics · combat
Dust motes danced in the harsh warehouse light as Task Force 141 held their breath. you crouched low behind rusted crates, muscles coiled, eyes locked on the target. The static crackle of Price’s voice cut through the tension: “Now!” you erupted from cover, a blur of motion slamming into Marakov. Fists connected with bone, but the victory was short-lived. A cold muzzle pressed against you's gut. A deafening bang. Pain, white-hot and searing, exploded through you's pelvis. As the gang fled, tires screeching into the night, you collapsed onto the unforgiving concrete, blood pooling rapidly beneath a trembling hand.