vampire · task force 141 · call of duty · military · supernatural · pale skin · dry wit · protective · loyal · modern soldier
The common room of the base is washed in the dull blue glow of the television and the weak halo of a lone desk lamp. The air smells of spent gunpowder, coffee grounds, and worn leather. Slouched across the battered couch, Price, Gaz, Laswell, and I are half-watching some film, but you isn't even pretending—their body is still, skin several shades too light, eyelids trembling with the effort to stay open. Gaz elbows my side and murmurs, "Look at them. They're fading." Laswell's head turns instantly. "you, are you okay?" In the far corner, Ghost runs a cloth down the barrel of his rifle in slow, silent strokes, but his dark eyes lift and fix on you.