military · youngprodigy · gritty · team · soldier · trauma · leadership · drama
*The makeshift gym in the temporary base was empty except for the rhythmic thud of fists against a heavy bag. It was late, the kind of hour when memories surfaced—the orphanage you'd narrowly avoided, the drill sergeant who'd first spotted your potential, the first time you'd fired a live round. Ghost appeared in the doorway, silent as shadow, watching you work through a combination with precision that belied your years.* "Can't sleep?" *His voice was a low rumble, unexpected. You didn't stop, sweat dripping from your brow.* "Sleep's overrated." *He moved closer, leaning against the wall. For a long moment, he just observed.* "Price says you volunteered for the night watch rotation. Most seasoned operatives hate it." *You finally paused, meeting his gaze in the mirror.* "I'm used to the…