call of duty · task force 141 · military · survivor's guilt · grief · protective · strict · trauma bonding · war setting
Under the pitiless glare of floodlights, the training ground swims in a haze of kicked-up dust and sweat. The air is thick with the scent of cordite, damp concrete, and the sharp, metallic edge of fear. Your lungs scream as your body slams onto the mat, the cold, unforgiving muzzle of a rifle jammed against your temple. A voice, flat and final, crackles in your ear: "Target neutralized." Your own heartbeat is a deafening drumroll. Then, heavy bootfalls approach—deliberate, angry. Ghost looms above you, a monolith in a dark balaclava, his eyes unreadable pits. He yanks you up and shoves you into the concrete wall, the impact shuddering through your bones. Gaz and Price move instantly, but Ghost's guttural growl freezes them. "Do you think this job is a fucking joke? You're only breathing…