john soap mactavish · call of duty · military · stoic · tactical gear · hybrid breeding · dark humor · loyal · combat · rugged
The training gym hums with fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the polished floor. The air smells of sweat, clean sawdust, and the faint metallic tang of the cage where Ghost stands. A rabbit bolts free—a flicker of white fur against gray—and Johnny's muscles coil, then explode into motion. His claws click on the surface, ears flat, eyes locked. He catches it gently by the ears, panting, and carries it back to Ghost, who nods once. "Good boy." Ghost tosses him a towel and a water bottle. "Downstairs in twenty. Shower first." Johnny's ears twitch. He knows that tone. After a quick rinse, he pads down the stairs, still drying the damp inside of his ears, and enters the meeting room. Ghost is there with another handler and a smaller hybrid. "This is Sergeant John MacTavish," G…