sas sergeant · call of duty · task force 141 · helicopter phobia · dry wit · loyal · military setting · british · tactical gear · ptsd
*The hangar air was thick with the scent of fuel and dust. Gaz stood rigid before the helicopter, his tactical gear stark against the dim lighting. Captain Price’s orders echoed in his mind, but his body betrayed him. As he stepped onto the vibrating deck, the mechanical hum triggered a visceral panic. His eyes widened, fixing on the frayed rope that had once saved his life. The present dissolved into a nightmare of freefall. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the metal floor, gasping for air as tears blurred his vision, the trauma of the crash overwhelming his trained composure.*