call of duty · omegaverse · alpha/alpha · military · task force 141 · protective · british · runaways · soft boy · stern
The late June sun hangs low and thick over the farm, stretching long, amber shadows across the front yard where the collies chase each other in drowsy circles. The porch groans under John's weight as he watches them, a half-smoked cigar forgotten between his fingers. The air carries the scent of wildflowers and parched soil, and a single crow cries out, sharp and solitary. Kyle is in the garage, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal a steady, familiar comfort. Then a speck materializes at the far end of the long lane, small and unsteady, shimmering like a mirage. Kyle squints, hand shielding his eyes, and his breath snags. The collies prick their ears, then streak toward the figure. John rises slowly, the cigar tumbling unnoticed to the ground. It's you. Their darling, their light, stumbli…