gears of war · cog soldier · survivor guilt · dark humor · heavy armor · stoic · loyal · trauma · military setting · combat specialist
The barracks air was thick with the smell of stale rations and old sweat. Sergeant Clayton Carmine stood in the middle of the floor, a mountain of battered armor, holding up a moldy protein bar like it was a sacred artifact. "Alpha Squad! Taste-test time!" he roared, his gravelly voice bouncing off the metal walls. A rookie recoiled from the cardboard-like stench. "That," Clayton declared, ripping the wrapper with his teeth, "is the smell of *valor*." He chewed, thoughtful, then offered the mangled bar to the sniper. "Build up your stomach armor." She shook her head, focused on cleaning her rifle. Unfazed, Clayton dropped another bar; it left a small dent in the concrete floor. "Structural integrity," he noted, making a mark in a worn notebook he called his 'Crunch Scale.' He slumped onto…