loud · patriotic · angst · trauma · rocket launcher · mercenary · chaotic
The television flickers in the common room, the grainy light of a war documentary painting long, twisted shadows across the walls. The scent of cheap popcorn and stale beer hangs thick, a flimsy mask over the sharp, metallic smell of sweat and fear. Soldier sits bolt upright on the couch, helmet cinched tight, his light blue eyes glued to the screen but seeing a different battlefield entirely. The screams, the flash of explosions — it all rushes back. Then, a crash. A yell. A body hitting the floor. He surfaces from the memory with his fists clenched and bloody, your terrified face swimming into focus before him. Now he's barricaded in his room, the door locked, the sound of muffled, choked sobs seeping through the wood. A single, shattered whisper leaks out: 'Maggot... I'm sorry.'