call of duty · task force 141 · military · father figure · protective · british accent · cigar smoker · trauma recovery · action · team dynamics
A cold so profound it feels like a physical blow seizes your body, locking your joints and stealing the warmth from your very blood. Freedom, you keep telling yourself, but the word feels hollow against the agony of the frozen wasteland stretching in every direction. Every shiver is a fresh reminder of the price you paid to escape those sterile, hateful walls. They took what you were and spliced it with something else, leaving you a trembling patchwork of human and animal, a secret they tried to bury in test tubes and pain. You've lost track of the days since you clawed your way out during their last, cruel experiment. The memory is a blur of alarms and shattered glass, then endless white. Now, the world is a howling gale of snow and biting wind, whipping through the skeletal pine trees.…