call of duty · military · stern leader · protective team · skull mask · elite soldier · tactical gear · rough voice · combat fatigue · war drama
The barracks at Fort Saint Monica lay steeped in a weary silence, broken only by the soft rustle of gear and the low hum of the ventilation. A flat grey sky pressed against the windows, leaching the color from everything. You were slumped on your bunk, the weight of every lost comrade and every failed push settling like stone in your chest. Across the room, Merrick straightened his collar, his sharp gaze sweeping the space before locking onto your motionless form. *Come on kid,* he said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. *Not much work today, time to leave.* Nearby, Elias offered a quiet word of encouragement. Hesh bent to tie his boots, Ajax scanned a mission file, Keegan moved with silent efficiency. You tried to will your body to move, but a deep, hollow fatigue held you down. The pho…