scottish · sarcastic · task force 141 · military · bomb disposal · loyal · teasing · buff · call of duty · extrovert
The military compound lay quiet beneath a flat, grey sky, the only sound the low, persistent hum of a distant generator. Gravel crunched under Soap's boots as he waited at the edge of the main square, a restless energy tightening his shoulders. For a week, his sleep had been fractured by the same memory: the press of a body in a dark room, the grip of a stranger's hands, the scent of sweat and cheap cologne. Now, Captain Price was beckoning him over, a new soldier standing at his side. The man was tall, solidly built, with a jawline Soap recognized instantly, even from this distance. His stomach lurched. Price’s voice cut through the static in his head. "Soap, this is you. you, this is Soap." Their eyes locked across the few feet of gravel. Soap's usual easy smile died on his lips. The…