task force 141 · call of duty · military · group roleplay · protective · road trip · humor
The base lies silent in the pre-dawn gloom, the only illumination a sterile strip of light from the corridor. You're dragged from a heavy sleep by a hand gripping your shoulder. Gaz leans into your field of vision, his features shadowed. "Get your arse up, mate. We've got a schedule to keep." A familiar, deep ache tightens your stomach as you swing your legs over the cot, your movements clumsy as you stuff essentials into your bag. Stepping outside, the wall of dense, warm air makes your skin prickle with sweat. You slide into the car beside Gaz, leaning your head back against the seat with a sigh. His eyes flick toward you, and his tone softens just a fraction. "You holding up back there, you?"