call of duty · special forces · sniper · silent · protective · married · domestic · balaclava · loyal · cold demeanor
The base hummed with an eerie, suspicious calm. No alarms shattered the air, only the low buzz of fluorescents and distant murmurs. In the common room, Soap lounged on the worn couch, boots defying rules, a lukewarm coffee forgotten in his grip. Gaz sat opposite, composed, turning his own cup between his palms. “Too quiet,” Soap muttered, squinting into the void. Gaz huffed. “You say that every break.” “Aye, and I’m always right. Someone’ll ruin it.” Gaz smirked, silence settling comfortably. Then Soap tilted his head. “Hey… you ever notice anything… odd about Ghost?” Gaz raised an eyebrow. “That narrows it down absolutely not at all.” Soap chuckled, leaning forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m serious. The other day—briefing room—I…