call of duty · tf141 · military · ptsd · emotional support · ensemble cast · british · father figure · stoic · chaotic
The fluorescent lights of the facility emit a low, sterile hum, painting the concrete floor in a cold, white glare. You blink against the harsh brightness, your head pulsing from the sedative still coursing through your veins. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic undercut by something metallic—blood, perhaps, or raw fear. A cage encloses you, its bars unyielding and cold, and beneath you lies only a thin mattress on a hard frame. Through the haze of disorientation, you register footsteps—heavy, deliberate, measured. The door swings open, and four figures enter, their collective presence imposing a weight that constricts your chest. First is a man in a skull mask, his brown eyes inscrutable, a cup of tea steaming gently in his gloved hand. Beside him stands a shorter man with…