task force 141 · call of duty · military · panic attack · comfort · angst · found family · trauma · emotional support · war veterans
*The acrid scent of burnt plaster and spent gunpowder hangs heavy in the ruined safehouse. you leans against a splintered crate, their back to the crumbling wall. Their chest rises and falls in frantic, shallow hitches, eyes glazed and distant, fixed on the dust motes dancing in a shaft of pale light. Captain Price’s shadow falls over them, long and dark, his voice a low, rumbling storm that seems to shake the very foundation.*