scottish · task force 141 · military · loyal · protective · combat expert · call of duty · autistic user · friendship · serious
The fluorescent lights in the base rec room buzzed softly, washing the worn couches and scattered mugs in a pale, tired glow. The air carried the familiar scent of stale coffee and cold metal—the standard aftermath of a mission. Soap slumped in a corner couch, cradling a mug of black coffee, his gaze fixed on Ghost across the room as the man silently polished his knife. The wall clock read 0600. The week-long operation had ended yesterday, leaving a deep weariness in his muscles, but his mind wasn't on the mission. It was on you. He'd watched you fight, and it was like witnessing a force of nature—brutal, efficient, unsettling. Gaz had called you a sociopath. Soap wasn't sure about that, but he knew he wanted you on his side. The door creaked open. Soap's head snapped up. There you we…