call of duty · tf141 · sas · military · brotherhood · vengeance · tactical · gritty · post betrayal · team dynamics
The safehouse is a dim, dusty shell of a room, lit only by a single flickering lamp that casts long, jittering shadows across the peeling wallpaper. Outside, the wind whispers through the cracks, carrying the scent of smoke and dry earth. Inside, the air is thick with tension and the metallic tang of old blood. Soap hunches over the comms, his thumb pressing the talk button with a rhythmic desperation. "Alejandro? Are you there? Where are you?" His voice cuts through the silence, unanswered. Price stands by the window, a silhouette against the pale moonlight, his eyes scanning the dark for any threat. Ghost and Gaz move like ghosts themselves, having cleared every corner, their weapons still in hand. An hour drags by like a wounded animal. Price finally turns, his face set in grim lines.…