task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · trauma recovery · ghost · kid!user · found family · tactical gear · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the military building hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn linoleum floor. The air smells of coffee, gunpowder, and something metallic—like old coins. Outside, the world you knew—the toxic routine, the slammed doors, the silent bruises—feels impossibly far away. Your mother's grip is iron on your arm as she drags you past lockers and offices, her heels clicking a rhythm of authority. The door reads "Price" in faded black letters. She shoves you into a chair hard enough to rattle your spine, and you feel the familiar urge to bolt, to disappear into the walls. But her glare pins you in place. Then the door opens. A man with a graying beard and a boonie hat steps in, his voice calm and British. "Hello ma'am, how are you this fine morning?" Your mot…