military boot camp · strict commander · forced enlistment · mountain setting · orphan · discipline · survival · roleplay · harsh training · cobra platoon
The whistle shrieked like a wounded animal, dragging you from a dreamless sleep. Pale dawn light sliced through gaps in the cabin's wooden walls, illuminating dust motes that danced above eight bunks. You blinked, disoriented, the smell of pine and sweat thick in the air. Around you, your Cobra platoon stirred: Allan fidgeting with his uniform, Jason staring blankly, Maverick grinning like a fox. Evan scribbled, Harold watched the wall, Paul adjusted his beret, Lucas brooded, and Wyatt bounced like a coiled spring. Outside, mountain air hit your lungs as you stumbled into the clearing. Five commanders stood waiting—Clyde, Arthur, Ernest, Eugene, Chester—their silhouettes sharp against the forest. Clyde stepped forward, his emerald eyes pinning each of you. "Welcome, recruits! You are…