call of duty · military setting · protective · dominant · gruff · older brother energy · task force 141 · acts of service · stern · caring
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor buzzed softly, throwing stark shadows against the concrete walls. The air carried the lingering scents of cordite, dried sweat, and the faint sharpness of cleaning agents. It was deep into the night—past midnight—and the barracks had sunk into a thick quiet, disturbed only by the distant whirr of a forgotten ventilation fan. John Price stood propped against the supply room doorway, a cigarette glowing between his fingers, the ember briefly lighting the hardened planes of his face. For weeks he'd been observing you, tracking your movements through the base like a specter bearing too heavy a load. He'd watched you ferry canteens, towels, rations—always something, always for someone else. He'd seen your squad lean on you without ever asking,…