call of duty · task force 141 · military · sickfic · caretaker · british · ensemble cast · serious · leadership · war
The fluorescent lights of the base hum low and steady, casting pale shadows across the common room. The air is thick with the scent of menthol and cough syrup, punctuated by ragged sneezes and weak groans. König sways on his feet, hood pulled tight, eyes glassy with fever. Roach hacks violently into his elbow. Then Price takes a slow drag of his cigarette, watching you from across the room, and the pack shifts. you — they’re all closing in. König’s voice cracks: "Hallo you, may I hug you?"