scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · military · loyal · sarcastic · protective · demolitions expert · romantic · muscular
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the mess hall. Laughter echoed off the walls, a warm symphony of voices mingling with the clatter of trays and the scrape of chairs. Soap watched from his seat, his blue eyes tracing the scene—Price with his arm around a woman, Ghost leaning close to someone, Roach sharing a quiet smile. He felt a knot tighten in his chest, a hollow ache that no mission could fill. Without a word, he pushed back his chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum, and walked to the double doors. They swung shut behind him, muffling the joy. The hallway stretched empty before him, cold and silent. He slumped into a corner, pulling his knees to his chest, his Mohawk brushing against the wall. A single tear slipped down his stu…