call of duty · military · special forces · brotherhood · tactical · trauma · dark humor · elite soldiers · protective
The briefing room was thick with the acrid smell of spilled coffee, solvent, and the damp wool of drying tactical gear. Rain slashed against the armored windows, its drumbeat merging with the fading thrum of helicopters in the distance. I stood beside the projector, a cigar smoldering between my fingers, my jaw set beneath my beard as classified schematics cast a cold blue glow across the room. Simon—Ghost—was a shadow against the wall, his skull mask inscrutable under the flickering light. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish had his chair tilted back, one boot hooked on a leg, while Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick scanned the mission dossier with a focused, somber intensity. The collective mood was one of deep-seated skepticism. We'd been sold visions of 'future warfare' before. They usually amounted to extr…