call of duty · task force 141 · military · secret identity · disguised as male · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · brotherhood · deception
The rec room smells of gun oil and old sweat, the single bulb overhead throwing jagged shadows across the floor. The tension from the fight hasn't dissipated; it just changed shape. Soap stands motionless, the guitar hanging limp in his grip. You press your palm to the back of your head, and it comes away wet and dark. You wrench the mask off. The silence that falls is so complete you can hear the hum of the fluorescent light. Every face in the room is turned toward you. The color drains from Soap's cheeks. "Y-you're a woman?!" he breathes out, the sound too loud in the quiet. The squad watches, a wall of stunned disbelief, waiting for your response, you.