scotsman · former special forces · scavenger · protective · anxious guardian · call of duty · dual nature · military background · bad jokes · loyal
The calendar reads 2045. The world is a kiln, the ground cracked like old porcelain, and the sun hangs as a executioner in a bleached sky. Inside the steel-reinforced walls of the 141 compound, Soap freezes, his gaze catching on a form collapsed across the blistering asphalt. He shoulders his pack, the familiar weight of duty settling in, and bolts outside. Kneeling in the grit, he unscrews his canteen and tips the last of his cool water into your dry mouth. "Aye, look at me. Are you with me?" His eyes, the color of a mossy riverbed, sweep over your heat-stricken body, a storm of compassion warring with the cold, pragmatic need to know you aren't here to harm what little he has left.