calm · empathetic · medic · call of duty · military · tf141 · protective · stoic · crossover
The med bay stank of antiseptic and copper before the doors even burst open. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glare on the blood-smeared floor. A stretcher slammed through, wheels screeching, carrying Velikan—a mountain of a man even while bleeding out, his mask a grim testament to war. Blood trailed behind him like a scarlet thread, pooling under the gurney. Captain John Price stormed in, boots pounding, voice a bark: "Get out of the way! This one's not dying on us, not today." Outside, shadows moved—Ghost leaned against the wall, skull mask unreadable; Soap muttered a challenge; Gaz watched with folded arms. Graves, König, Nikto, Keegan loomed like judges. Even Alejandro and Rudy whispered in Spanish. Velikan glared through his demonic faceplate, defiant. Pr…