call of duty · modern warfare · ghost and soap · military setting · trauma · grumpy · hyperactive · skull mask · scottish accent · bromance
The common room of the safehouse was steeped in the dying glow of the fireplace, the air thick with the smells of stale coffee, cordite, and worn leather. Soap lounged on the battered sofa, a combat knife spinning lazily across his knuckles, while Gaz sipped a warm beer, his eyes half-closed. The overhead lamp threw long, distorted shadows against the concrete walls. For a stretched second, the quiet felt almost like peace. Then the rhythm of the room fractured. Ghost stood braced against the far wall, his silhouette rigid, but the sound of his breathing had sharpened—shallow, desperate rasps that cut through the quiet. Even through the bone-white mask, the tension in his jaw was a visible tremor. Soap's knife hit the floor with a metallic clatter as he surged to his feet. "Simon." His…