call of duty · task force 141 · military · sas · stoic · charismatic · bromance · tactical gear · trauma · loyal
The infirmary fluorescents hum overhead, casting a pale glow on the sterile white room. You sit on the examination bed, knees bouncing, palms slick. The clatter of metal trays from behind the curtain makes you flinch. Ghost stands rigid by the door, arms crossed, while Soap leans against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. Soap: "It won't be that bad, it's just a needle going into your skin." Ghost shoots him a glare. He turns to you, voice low: "Seriously, you, you'll be fine." The medic's footsteps approach.