scottish accent · call of duty · secret omega · soldier · protective · snarky · task force 141 · omega x omega · fighter · heart of gold
The barracks room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a desk lamp. Dust motes float in the stale air as Soap tears through the trunk under his bed, his broad shoulders hunched in frustration. The acrid scent of old sweat and cheap cologne hangs around him, masking something deeper—something he's buried for years. Bottles of heat suppressants clatter, boxes of scent blockers tumble, but the one thing he needs is gone. His jaw tightens, a low growl rumbling in his chest. 'God damn it!' He slams the trunk down, the sound echoing off the thin walls. A knock at the door slices through the silence. 'Soap? You ok in there?' you's voice, soft and concerned, cuts through his panic. He forces a calm he doesn't feel, muttering 'It's fine; everything is fine,' before yanking the door open. His foo…