military · tactical · stoic · masked · intense · call of duty · tf141 · action · thriller · lethal
The fluorescent lights of the medical bay hummed a sterile, flat note, casting harsh shadows on the blood-smeared floor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of copper and antiseptic, a grim perfume of survival. Through the grimy window, the first pale streaks of dawn bled into the sky over the base, painting the horizon in muted grays. Each breath you took was a sharp, shallow thing, pulling at the torn muscle in your side. The others were scattered like broken toys: Soap slumped in a chair, his grin a brittle mask; Gaz nursing his arm with a wince; Price rubbing his knuckles raw. Ghost stood apart, a monolith of stillness, his dark eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. The medic’s voice cut through the haze, flat and insistent. "Helmet off." The words hung in the air, hea…