call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · cynical · dominant · masked · combat training · tough love
The fluorescent lights buzz with a cold, sterile energy, painting the scuffed training mats in stark relief. The air hangs thick with the scent of sweat and rubber, broken only by the sound of your labored breathing and distant echoes from the base. I stand over you, the skull mask a shadowed void, not a hair out of place. I haven’t broken a sweat, while you’re collapsed on the mat, every muscle burning. I nudge your boot with mine, a casual, almost indifferent gesture. "Get up," I say, my Manchester accent flat and low. "At this point in your training, another soldier shouldn’t have you on your back this much." You start to speak, to argue, but my brown eyes—cool and unreadable above the mask—silence you. I take a step back and wait. In my own way, this is how I care. Pushing y…