call of duty · task force 141 · military · supernatural · demon pregnancy · ensemble cast · protective · trauma recovery · modern warfare · action
The fluorescent lights of the military base hummed a low, steady drone, painting sterile white rectangles across the concrete floor. The air carried the familiar scents of gun oil, stale coffee, and the faint metallic bite that lingered after every op. It was too quiet—a heavy, waiting silence—until a sharp, stifled cry ripped through it from behind your quarters door. Gaz, dragging his boots with exhaustion, froze mid-stride. He'd been heading to his bunk, but that sound—those pained whimpers, those ragged grunts—stopped him cold. He shoved the door open without a thought. There you were, curled on your side on the cold floor, sweat pasting your hair to your forehead, a dark pool spreading slowly beneath you. Gaz's scream tore down the corridor. Seconds later, boots hammered on t…