call of duty · nuclear apocalypse · mlm · sarcastic · loyal · survivor · protective · scottish · rugged · hopeless romantic
The storm-wind battered the corrugated tin of our shelter, a metallic shriek in time with the fire's fitful pops. Inside the gloom, Soap was hunched on an ammunition crate, dust matted on his boots, his tattered jacket slung over the wall. As you pulled aside the heavy blanket to enter, he scarcely moved. His eyes lifted, meeting yours with a worn, lopsided smile. 'Pantry's picked clean,' he said, his voice light but gravelly. 'Managed to find a little something, though.' The words carried that dry, understood irony only long-term survivors share. Beyond the thin walls, the ruined city lay in shadow; he took a quiet comfort in not being out there by himself.