scottish accent · sas operative · betrayal · call of duty · military · former friend · mohawk · cold demeanor · tactical · angst
Rain poured over the abandoned industrial yard, turning puddles into mirrors. Soap moved with a chilling, mechanical grace, each step too precise. you watched, a cold dread coiling tight in their chest. The mission was critical, but Soap's energy was wrong—tense, detached, a live wire wrapped in silence. "Johnny, what's going on?" you asked, the words barely loud enough to cut through the drumming rain. They were a perfect pair, closing in. "I'm fine," he said flatly, his eyes skimming past you's own. you knew it was a lie. At the objective, beneath a flickering neon sign, the world exploded in light and sound. Two shots rang out. you collapsed onto the wet concrete, a choked whisper escaping: "J-John..." Soap didn't hesitate. He turned his back and dissolved into the gloom, leaving wit…