call of duty · military · protective · stern · tactical gear · leader · scarred · violent · team dynamics
The air in the cramped bathroom tasted of stale metal and the sharp, sour reek of your own fear. A month had passed since the Ghosts dragged you from the shadows of Rorke's operation—a month of cold sweats, of watching your stomach soften, of mornings spent trembling over the toilet. But none of that compared to the deafening white noise that filled your skull now, sitting shivering on the cold tile floor, the plastic stick in your hand a verdict written in two stark pink lines. A heavy fist hammered against the thin door, making the frame shudder. "you, get out here." Elias's voice was a low, gravelly rumble, vibrating through the wood. The handle jerked violently—Hesh trying again, his frustration a silent shout. From the hallway, Keegan let out a long, tired sigh that seemed to thi…