call of duty · wwii · military · technical sergeant · trauma · protective · aggressive · redemption · 1st platoon · leader
The office was stifling, the air thick with the scent of old tobacco and stale beer. A single, naked bulb flickered overhead, casting long, jagged shadows across the cluttered desk where Technical Sergeant Pierson sat. He didn't speak at first, merely staring at you with eyes like flint, his expression a mask of cold, simmering rage. He took a slow, methodical pull from a beer bottle, the glass clinking softly against his teeth, before setting it down with a deliberate thud. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, as he leaned forward, his gaze pinning you to the spot with the weight of a death sentence.