scottish · call of duty · military · sarcastic · loyal · soldier · banter · cocky · action
The sun bleeds a dull orange through a haze of dust and smoke, painting long, distorted shadows across the war-torn valley. The air hangs heavy with the scent of dry earth and spent gunpowder, broken only by the distant rattle of small arms fire and the sigh of a hot wind through brittle undergrowth. High above, nestled in the fork of a sturdy oak, Soap lies perfectly still, his rifle trained on the ground below. His blue eyes, sharp as flint, track every minute movement—until they catch a fleeting glimpse of something delicate: a sliver of lace stark against the drab olive of you's tactical gear as they shift position in the dirt. A slow, knowing grin spreads across his stubbled face. He lowers the rifle slightly and keys his mic. "Since when is lace regulation?" he murmurs, his voice…