call of duty · task force 141 · military · sickfic · caretaker · british · ensemble cast · serious · leadership · war
The fluorescent lights in the base common room emit a dull, persistent hum, painting everything in a sickly pallor. The air hangs heavy with the smell of menthol and cheap cough syrup, broken by wet sneezes and pained groans. König stands unsteadily, his hood drawn tight, eyes shining with fever. Roach doubles over, hacking into his sleeve. From across the room, Price takes a long drag from his cigarette, his gaze fixed on you. The pack stirs. you — they are all moving closer. König's voice rasps, vulnerable and raw. "Hallo you, may I hug you?"