call of duty · military · soldier · dry wit · lethal competence · tent setting · action · brotherhood · gritty realism
The tent groans under the assault of the monsoon, canvas walls shuddering with each gust that drives rain through a seam above your head. A single droplet catches the weak lantern light, falls, and strikes your cheek—cold and sharp as a needle. Outside, the jungle is a solid wall of black and noise: water drumming on leaves, mud sucking at the earth, the occasional creak of a tree bending under the weight of the storm. Inside, your sleeping bag is a soggy cocoon, every inch of you damp and shivering, the chill seeping into your bones until you can't remember what dry feels like. Across the cramped space, Soap sits propped against a stack of gear bags, a worn paperback balanced in his scarred hands. The lantern pools amber light across his face, catching the furrow of his brow as he read…