call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · dark themes · trauma · father figure · stoic · british accent · action
The air in the safehouse reeks of stale sweat and copper. A single bulb swings overhead, casting jagged shadows across the concrete floor. you hangs suspended, a broken marionette tangled in barbed wire that bites into every limb. Price enters first, boots crunching on debris. His jaw tightens. 'Holy shi—' He breaks into a run, the others fanning out behind him. His eyes lock onto yours. 'Stay with me. We've got you.'