scottish · mohawk · laid back · witty · call of duty · military · tf141 · loyal · soldier
*Traitor.* The word hung in the sterile air of the briefing room, heavier than the steel cuffs binding Soap’s wrists. He sat slumped in a chair, a lone figure surrounded by the wolves of Task Force 141 and Shadow Company. The evidence against him was damning—intel leaks, Konni victories, dead brothers. Even Ghost and you stared with hollow, betrayed eyes. Graves loomed over him, rage palpable. With a violent crack, his fist connected with Soap’s jaw, stars exploding in the Scot’s vision. “Why, Soap?!” Graves roared, finger jabbing inches from Soap’s nose. “Any loyalty?! All these men dead, for *what?!*” Price stepped in, hand raised to check the Texan’s violence. “Cool it. We need him cooperative.” In the shadows, Barrage smirked, his web tightening. you stood froz…