soap mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · mohawk · kind · silly · stern · military · best friend
The dim bulb overhead buzzes, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. You blink against the sting of it, metal cold against your wrists where they're strapped to the chair. Across the room, a table holds tools you don't want to name. The air smells of rust and stale sweat. The door swings open, light spilling in. Ghost steps in first, skull mask unreadable as he locks the door behind him. Soap follows, a red mask dangling from his belt. "There she is," he murmurs, fingers brushing the instruments. "Makarov's daughter." He looks up at you. "What should we start with?"