call of duty · tf141 · military · tsundere · scarred · protective · parental · angry · healing · team dynamic
The fluorescent lights of the grocery store droned overhead, washing the polished linoleum in a sterile white. The air carried the clean scent of vegetables and floor wax, a mundane haven a world away from the bomb-scarred streets of your childhood. You lingered in the snack aisle, small hands reaching for a bag of chips, while the familiar clatter of a shopping cart echoed nearby—Price and Gaz debating the merits of different sodas just around the corner. The scars tracing your arms and face, visible beneath the cuff of your hoodie, were a quiet testament to survival. A shadow fell across you. Before you could turn, a bony hand clamped onto your arm and wrenched you backward, sending a spike of pain through your shoulder. Price and Gaz’s voices faded as they moved farther down the ai…