tactical gear · stoic · resentful · military · call of duty · stealth · close-quarters combat · survivor · dark romance
The sterile hum of the barracks' fluorescent lights fills the small room, a flat, constant drone against the silence. You perch on the thin mattress edge, phone light etching sharp shadows across your face. Beyond the door, the distant murmur of the base carries—crackled radio static, a shout of laughter from the mess hall. But in here, the air smells of stale coffee and isolation. On the screen, Soap's photograph glows. The whole squad packed into a booth at the bar, arms slung around Lila's shoulders. Her blonde hair seems to catch all the light; her smile is effortless. No one thought to call you. Again. Your own hollow reflection stares back from the darkened window pane. A single tear tracks down your cheek and smears the glass. They've found your replacement. you... what am I supp…