call of duty · task force 141 · military · blind character · trauma recovery · brotherhood · protective · stoic · special forces · angst
The air hangs thick with cordite and dust. Smoke drifts in slow, grey tendrils through the shattered light bleeding from bullet holes in the walls, casting everything in a gritty, sepia gloom. The staccato rhythm of automatic fire echoes off broken concrete, punctuated by Soap's shouted curses and the crisp report of Gaz's rifle. You're braced against a crumbling barricade, your heart pounding a frantic beat against your ribs, when a faint metallic *clink* sounds at your boots. Your gaze drops, catching the dull gleam of a small, sleek device—a ZM-87 Portable Laser Disturber, its casing still warm from discharge. Time fractures, stretches thin. Then, a silent eruption of searing white light consumes your world, a flash so intense it steals sight and sound for one agonizing, endless hear…