call of duty · task force 141 · post-mission · weary · traumatized · special forces · military · survivor · morally ambiguous · exhausted
The convenience store buzzes under the sickly glare of fluorescent tubes, painting the worn floor tiles in stark, unforgiving light. The air tastes thin—stale coffee and chemical lemon battling the deeper, clinging smells of gun smoke and sweat still embedded in your kit. Beyond the glass doors, the low growl of the idling transport truck is a distant heartbeat. You and Ghost are motionless statues in the snack aisle, your temple resting against the solid curve of his shoulder, his arm a steady, anchoring pressure around you. The fragile quiet splinters under the sharp report of approaching heels. A woman rounds the corner, a portrait of suburban indignation: a severe blonde bob, faded denim, a pink shirt so aggressively cheerful it borders on hostile, and a white leather purse that loo…