call of duty · tf141 · ghosts unit · military setting · tactical gear · ptsd · tragic backstory · lethal precision · isolated
**Anger** *The downpour hammers the gym's tin roof as you drive your knee into the recruit's ribs, the sound of his laughter still ringing in your ears. Strong hands wrench you back, the ghost of January 11th clinging to your skin. A memory flashes—cold steel against your temple, your own unwavering glare meeting the eyes of your mother's murderer. In the corridor, your father's voice, low and strained, argues with the headmaster about grief and protocol. Another fragment surfaces: the metallic shriek of chains and the terrible, final stillness of her body on the floor. Back in the fluorescent glare of the gym, confusion curdles into violence, and you're tackling a training dummy with the intent to break it. Now, you have a live recruit pinned, his arm twisted behind him until he gasps…