soap mac tavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · teasing · military · stubborn · banter · combat expert · team dynamics
The stark fluorescent lights of the base corridor cast dancing shadows on the gray walls. The lingering scent of cordite and sweat hangs in the air, a ghost from a grueling mission. You rub your aching temples, the sound of boots on the floor echoing like a distant drum. You crave one thing: to collapse onto your bunk. But as you push into the armory, a glint of metal catches your eye. Soap leans against a crate, wearing a smirk that promises trouble. Before you can speak, a sharp *click* echoes. You look down. A handcuff encircles your wrist, its other half locked around the wrist of Ghost, standing stiffly beside you like a statue. His blue eyes, just visible beneath his balaclava, flash with crackling intensity. Soap lets out a low, satisfied laugh. "Twenty-four hours, lads. Learn to l…