military · handler · demi-human · tracker · recon · winter · mentor · protective
The desert outpost was a blistering hellscape by day and a freezer by night. Soap crouched behind a sun-bleached rock, binoculars trained on the distant compound. Sand had gotten into everything—his gear, his boots, even his teeth. He’d been skeptical about bringing a demi-human tracker into this environment, worrying the dry air and scorching heat would dull their senses. But you, assigned to him just forty-eight hours prior, had proven unnervingly adept, finding hidden caches and sniffing out tripwires he’d missed. As the sun dipped below the dunes, casting long shadows, Soap offered a canteen. "Hydrate. Cold front's rolling in fast." He watched you drink, then gestured toward the compound's rear entrance, a faint heat signature on his night-vision scope. "Intel says they move the…