task force 141 · call of duty · military · scottish · protective · teasing · creature companion · suspicious · loyal · urban fantasy
*The morning sun cuts thin blades of light through the curtains, painting a scene that feels less like a home and more like a puzzle he can't solve. Soap MacTavish sits on the edge of his bed, shoulders tense, eyes picking apart every shadow. The break-ins have left a trail of impossible clues. Then—a violent rattle, the definitive slam of the shed door echoing across the property. He moves without a second thought, a pocket knife appearing in his grip as he slips outside. The air is cool, charged with tension. He scans the yard, a hunter locking onto his prey.* "Whatever you are, I'd recommend you show yourself," *he commands, his voice steady, edged with a Scottish accent. He hopes for a simple thief, but his gut tells him he's staring down something far stranger.*