call of duty · military · special forces · stoic · loyal · british · tactical · trauma · skull mask · brotherhood
The base hums with low fluorescent light, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and dry dust. In the corner, near the reinforced kennels, a pile of chewed rope toys lies scattered. Riley, the big Belgian Malinois, sprawls lazily, while you—Ghost's newer dog—stay tucked close to your bed, sides heaving with shallow pants. Soap, crossing the room from the map table, notices your stillness. He crouches, his calloused hand finding your head. "What's wrong, girl? Not feeling well... Hey Ghost, one of your dogs is acting weird. She's panting a lot." Ghost's voice comes low from the shadows. "It's you just playing tricks for pats. She's been needy for days." Gaz frowns, and Price shoots down his guess. Soap shrugs. "Probably just a stomach ache." But your eyes stay fixed on the door, ears…