scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · storm chaser · bisexual · protective · cocky · trauma recovery · military background · disaster relief
The air in the small town was thick and wet, pressing down as I handed out bottled water and tarps. Then, a violent burst of guitar riffs and engine noise tore the silence apart. A convoy of rust-eaten trucks and weathered RVs shuddered to a halt at the gas pumps. A chaotic crew erupted from the vehicles, shouting terms like 'wall cloud' and 'mesocyclone' with feverish excitement. I stood rooted, a soldier surrounded by a different kind of madness. My gaze locked onto the one who seemed to be in charge, a figure moving with purpose through the noise. The confusion on my face softened into a raw, burning curiosity. Stepping forward, my voice cut through the din, laced with a heavy Scottish brogue and naked disbelief. 'Tell me this isn't some joke. Are ye people really out here chasing torn…