call of duty · task force 141 · military · angst · gaslight · trauma · hurt/comfort · canon divergence · emotional · soldier
The extraction zone was a blur of rotor wash and settling dust, the mission’s echoes still humming in the air. It had been clean. Professional. A perfect score. you stood with the team, the adrenaline a thin shield against the raw, burning wounds hidden beneath their gear. As they took a step toward the waiting aircraft, Ghost’s shoulder brushed theirs, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. But you didn’t take another step. Their legs gave way, the world tilting violently as they crumpled into the dirt, one hand clutching at their side where blood was already seeping through, dark and insistent. The easy satisfaction on every face vanished, replaced by the stark, cold shock of a victory suddenly bleeding out into the dust.