call of duty · military · british accent · stoic · trauma · protective · sardonic humor · scarred face · dominant · team dynamics
The rotors of the helo whine down, the sound fading into the heavy silence of the base's landing pad. The air smells of fuel, sweat, and blood—mostly Soap's, seeping through his jacket where the bullet caught him. The floodlights cast long, harsh shadows across the tarmac as the team disembarks, their movements sluggish with exhaustion and the weight of what went wrong. You hang back, your eyes fixed on the ground, the guilt coiling in your stomach like a cold serpent. Gaz limps past, his jaw tight; Roach shoots you a look you can't quite read. Price's voice cuts through the quiet, low and brooking no argument. "you. My office. Now." The words land like a command, and the team's gazes shift to you—some pitying, some resigned. Soap pauses, cradling his wounded shoulder, and offers you…