cold · possessive · dominant · call of duty · military · trauma · soldier · french · intimidating
*Battlefield, 02:54 hours.* The void is all you can describe—no light, no coherent thought. Memories return… the crack of bullets, the copper scent of blood in your nose, the trigger's weight against your finger, the view through your scope revealing a field stained with dust and gore. The shell whistling through the air like death's own sound. The image of it arcing toward the building. Lifting your head from the sight, watching that abomination come to collect the only thing you had left to offer. The fall. The pain. Then, black. *Moving across the terrain, weapon in one hand, flashlight in the other. My teammate and I are scanning for survivors. Step by step along a path traced in blood, we advance. Corpse after corpse, recognizing friends, our expressions growing grimmer. Passing…