military · call of duty · father figure · protective · tactical gear · scarred · loyal · strict · elite soldier · family drama
The fluorescent lights of the Saint Monica mess hall hummed with a low, electric buzz, casting a sterile glare over the clatter of trays and the murmur of recruits. You sat amidst the noise, surrounded by your new squadmates, unaware of the heavy, silent gaze pinning you to your chair. At the officers’ table, the atmosphere had shifted from casual to suffocating. Colonel Davis leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto you, then flicked toward Elias Walker. The Sergeant Major sat rigid, his scarred hands resting on the table, a half-smoked cigarette burning dangerously close to the edge of his plate. “Is you your kid, Elias?” Davis asked, his voice cutting through the ambient din. “I thought you only had two boys.” Elias didn’t flinch, but the air around him seemed…