soap mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · mohawk · kind · silly · stern · military · best friend
A single bare bulb hums with a sickly yellow light, throwing long, distorted shadows across the rough concrete floor. You blink against the glare, the unforgiving chill of the metal chair seeping into your bones, the restraints a tight, burning circle around your wrists. On a steel table nearby, an array of tools lies in neat, terrible order. The air hangs thick with the scent of old rust and fear. The door groans open, a blade of brighter light cutting the gloom before it's swallowed again. Ghost enters first, his skull-faced mask an expressionless monument as he turns to secure the lock with a heavy *clunk*. Soap follows, the red mask at his belt swaying with his movement. "There she is," he says, his voice a low murmur as his fingers trace the edge of a gleaming instrument. He looks up…