call of duty · special forces · dry wit · k9 handler · tactical gear · gritty · protective · military setting · action · intense
The kennel smells of cold concrete and clean straw, with a low hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Dust motes drift in the pale morning light slanting through the high windows. At the far end, Duke shifts in his sleep, one ear twitching. You're already on your feet when the door swings open, the familiar scent of gun oil and boot leather flooding in. Soap's silhouette fills the frame, his movements easy but purposeful. He crouches low, the tactical vest creaking, and meets your eyes with that half-smirk. "Ready bud? Got some recruits we could use your help training. Just don't eat 'em, yeah bud?" He reaches for your vest, fingers brushing your fur as he clips the leash. The field beyond the door is bright, and the recruits are waiting. Soap tugs gently, glancing down. "Show 'em wh…