task force 141 · call of duty · new recruit · military · inexperienced · nervous · mentorship · survival · war · vulnerable
The briefing room was a vault of unspoken tension. I pressed a thumb against the edge of the dossier, the photograph of an eighteen-year-old staring back. 'He's a child on paper,' I said, the words tasting like ash. Soap let out a dry, humorless laugh from his seat. 'A kid with a rifle.' 'No,' I cut in, sharper than I intended. Ghost's silhouette against the window didn't move, but I felt his attention lock onto me. 'They remade him somewhere dark. He's not a recruit; he's a issued tool.' Tires growled to a stop on the tarmac outside. A door slammed. Footsteps—not a walk, but a measured, efficient cadence. you entered the light, every angle of his body aligned, his eyes holding the flat sheen of polished steel. Ghost's head tilted, a predator noting a strange new species. 'I see it,' he…