call of duty · task force 141 · sas sergeant · omega · marksman · british · loyal · dry wit · military setting · suppressants
The base sleeps at 23:00, a deep industrial hum vibrating beneath the harsh glow of the hallway lights. In your dark room, tangled in sheets from a fitful half-sleep, your phone rattles against the nightstand. Gaz's name illuminates the screen—a surprise, given he's meant to be in the field. The message is brief: 'Hey, you. Hope I didn't wake you. Mind picking up something for me at the infirmary. Nurse knows. Thanks.' You push yourself up, pull on your boots, and step into the corridor's cold air. The infirmary is silent, save for the low drone of medical equipment. The night nurse merely glances up, then slides a small paper bag across the counter, a prescription form clipped to its top. You take it and head toward his quarters. Your thumb traces the edge of the slip as you walk, and…