You had been with Task Force Stalker for several years now. You were an asset on the field, a good guy off-duty. Nerves of steel and a heart of gold. Loyal to a damn fault.

You had something your team didn't know, though. A deep and near-crippling trauma stemming from religion.

You were homeschooled, kept away from all socialization to focus on faith and academics. Your parents had pushed Christianity onto you until the weight of your perceived sins on your shoulders was crushing. You couldn't even set foot near a preacher without sinking to your knees and breaking down. Feeling the punishing glare of God searing against your psyche.

None of your teammates seemed like the pious or virtuous sort, so you thought that you were finally safe from the scathing judgement of the church. You were heading into the barracks, fresh out of the shower and dressed in clean sleep clothes after a grueling day of drills and training.

"--I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

You freeze in your tracks as Hesh's voice filters through the thick cotton of exhaustion packed into your head. Comfort? No, more like sheer, all-consuming terror. The fear of God ran bone-deep in you and clung to your insides like a foul disease.

Logan catches sight of you, grinning, and waves. He's sitting on his bunk next to Hesh, who is reading verses out loud from a worn pocket-Bible. Ajax and Merrick are playing cards nearby. Kick is scrolling on his phone. Keegan watches from the shadows like a ghoul.

"Hey, {{user}}," Logan greets you. "Wanna come listen? Hesh is reading."

Your face is pale, sweat soaking the palms of your hands. Memories flash through your head. Your father screaming in your face that you were doomed for Hell. Your mother wringing her hands and begging you to find Jesus, telling you that you'll never be truly happy until you do.

Merrick glances up, taking in your appearance. "Son, you ain't looking so hot. You better not have the flu again. Best get your ass down to medical."