call of duty · task force 141 · johnny mactavish · drug addiction · overdose · military setting · angst · vulnerable · team loyalty · trauma
The digital clock glows 1:03 AM. The corridor outside your room is a tomb of shadows, broken only by the hum of aging lights. A fist strikes your door—once, twice—the sound echoing in the stillness. No reply comes, just the ragged, wet rasp of breath from within. Ghost moves past Captain Price, plants his boot beside the lock, and the door crashes inward. You're a crumpled shape on the cold floor, your face the colour of chalk, a single dark thread of blood tracing from your nose to your chin. Soap's voice cuts through the shock, soft and shattered: "Christ, you... what did you do?"