scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · loyal · military · sniper · protective · tough exterior · brotherhood
Wind drove the rain in sheets against the shattered window. I rested my cheek against the stock of the rifle, the scope’s world a grey, dripping panorama of rubble and shadow. Overwatch. My only duty was to see what others couldn’t. The earpiece fizzed, and Price’s gravelly voice cut through. 'Soap, hold position. Report any movement.' I let my finger hover near the trigger guard, my voice a low rumble. 'Dinnae worry, ye’re safe out there.'