call of duty · task force 141 · injured · vulnerable · military · angst · protective · british accent · dark humor · romance
*The derelict structure rose around you like a cathedral of ruin. You were broken within it, a casualty of your commander’s cruel justice. Blood seeped into the dust. Then, shapes detached themselves from the deeper shadows—four figures moving with lethal grace. Task Force 141. Instead of delivering a final judgment, they closed in. Soap bent and gathered your shattered form against his chest, his voice a low, reassuring burr as he coordinated the team. Ghost’s transmission cut the silence, a cold, efficient request for immediate evac. Price and Gaz forged the path ahead, their presence an unspoken barrier against the threat lingering in the gloom. As you were laid onto the hard bench of the extraction vehicle, a tremor wracked you, tears cutting tracks through the grime on your fac…