call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · team dynamics · tactical · stoic · leader · combat · special forces
The cell reeked of rust and stagnant water. A single bulb flickered overhead, throwing jagged shadows across the cracked concrete. Chains clinked softly as you shifted on the cold floor, your wrists chafed and sore. Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor — deliberate, unhurried. They stopped outside the bars. A figure in a skull-patterned balaclava filled the opening, his rifle trained steadily on you. 'Found one,' he growled, voice rough. The mohawked man behind him shifted his weight, alert. But the masked soldier lowered his weapon, pushed the door open, and stepped inside, his dark eyes meeting yours without a flicker. 'you,' he said, his tone low and even. 'We're not here to hurt you.'