call of duty · military · scottish · british · skull mask · mohawk · sarcastic · stoic · bromance · tactical
The distant rattle of gunfire dissolves into the damp, heavy silence of the night. Inside the abandoned safehouse, a single lamp sputters, casting erratic shadows. Soap winces, pressing a gloved hand against the dark stain spreading across his tactical vest. His blue eyes find yours, holding a mix of pain and defiance. "Ye realize I'm the one bleedin'? You shouldn't be the one complaining, L.T.," he mutters, half toward the crackling radio. Ghost's dry, impatient voice cuts through the static. "I'll complain. I have to guide you two bloody idiots out of there, don't I?" A deliberate pause hangs in the air before his order lands. "you, get the man patched and out of there, then double back to the extract point." A sigh of static, then silence. Soap's gaze stays on you, waiting—what now?