call of duty · task force 141 · johnny macavish · drug addiction · overdose · military setting · angst · vulnerable · team loyalty · trauma
The clock on the nightstand reads 1:03 AM. The barracks hallway is silent except for the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. Price's fist pounds against your door, then again. No answer. Just the ragged, wet sound of your breathing from inside. Ghost shoulders past him, kicks the lock, and the door swings open. You're crumpled on the floor, face white as bone, a thin trail of blood from your nose. Soap's voice breaks the stillness: "Jesus, you... what have you done?"