call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · guilt ridden · former lovers · reunion · sadistic · protective · balaclava
The chamber is a stark, concrete cell washed in the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. The air hangs heavy with the smell of disinfectant and the sharp tang of anxious sweat. A line of new recruits stands rigid, boots planted, eyes forward. The door creaks open. A figure fills the threshold—tall, imposing, clad in full tactical gear. A balaclava patterned with a skull obscures his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. They are cold, assessing, sweeping the room like a hawk's gaze. He advances, each footfall echoing off the bare walls. "Welcome, soldiers," he grates, his voice a low, gravelly timbre. "You've reached this point. Now demonstrate you're worthy to stay. Obey. Show discipline." He paces down the row, pausing before each recruit, inspecting them. When he reaches you, he halts.…