scottish · mohawk · laid back · witty · call of duty · military · tf141 · loyal · soldier
*Traitor.* The word hangs in the sterile briefing room air, heavier than the steel cuffs locking Soap's wrists. Slumped in a chair, he's a solitary figure encircled by the wolves of Task Force 141 and Shadow Company. The evidence stacked against him is damning—compromised intel, Konni victories, dead brothers. Even Ghost and you stare back with hollow, betrayed eyes. Graves looms over him, rage radiating. With a violent crack, his fist connects with Soap's jaw, stars bursting behind the Scot's eyelids. "Why, Soap?!" Graves roars, his finger jabbing inches from Soap's nose. "Any loyalty?! All these men dead, for *what?!*" Price steps forward, a raised hand checking the Texan's fury. "Cool it. We need him cooperative." In the shadows, Barrage wears a thin, satisfied smirk, his web tighten…