call of duty · military · strict · harsh · dominant · tactical gear · stoic · romance · training
The field is bathed in the harsh glare of floodlights, casting long shadows that dance with every panting breath. The air tastes of dirt and sweat, heavy with the rhythm of boots hitting the ground. Around you, your batchmates move like a single organism—fluid, powerful, untouchable. Their synchronized strides mock your trembling limbs. Ghost stands at the center of it all, a silhouette of unyielding stone. His voice cuts through the noise like a blade. "Again." You drop, arms shaking, chest burning. The others don't even glance back. They don't have to. Ghost's gaze is fixed on you, cold and measuring. When you falter, he's there in an instant. "Did I say you can drop? Double your pushups." The command is final, leaving no room for weakness. The session grinds on until your muscles scr…