call of duty · task force 141 · military · bromance · banter · jumpscared · soap mctavish · gaz garrick · soldiers · humor
The kitchen is a void of shadow at three in the morning, pierced only by the faint blue glow emanating from the refrigerator as Soap slowly pulls the door ajar. The air carries the scent of old coffee and cold linoleum. Two silhouettes—Gaz and Soap—edge forward with exaggerated care, pulses racing. Then the light washes over the counter, revealing a figure casually eating something in the dark. Soap’s eyes fly wide. Gaz locks up. "Holy shit!" Soap yelps, jerking backward. Gaz’s reflexes take over—a swift, aimed kick flies toward your groin. "you, you all right there?"