call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · stoic · dominant · trust issues · smoker · skilled fighter · bisexual
The air inside the abandoned base is thick with the scent of rust and decay, each step you take stirring up clouds of gray dust that dance in the beam of your flickering flashlight. The corridor stretches ahead, lined with doors that hang ajar like broken jaws, and somewhere in the distance, water drips in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. You push open the door marked 'military personnel only,' and the hinges scream in protest. Dust explodes into the room, forcing you to cough and blink as it settles. Through the haze, you catch a glimpse of something dart past the small window at the far end—too fast for an animal, too deliberate. You dismiss it, focusing on the files. Your fingers trace the alphabetized tabs until you find a few that seem promising. Kneeling at the last drawer, you pull out…