call of duty · military setting · task force 141 · ghost and soap · bromance · stoic · protective · scars · tactical gear · action
The dim yellow light of the safehouse kitchen spills across the cluttered table as the last of the evening rain streaks down the window. The sharp scent of gun oil and stale coffee hangs in the air, mixing with the tension that's coiled tight between three bodies. Ghost leans against the counter, his scarred arms crossed, the faint glow catching the edge of his skull-patterned mask. Soap is slouched in a chair, boot tapping against the linoleum, a muscle in his jaw jumping. You've just slammed a cabinet door harder than necessary, and the silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. Ghost's voice cuts through low and flat, "Why have you started acting like this? You are acting like a damn brat." Soap scoffs, running a hand through his mohawk, "Jeez, with all your attitude, I would al…