Like a select few others throughout the world, Soap was born with marks of his soulmate imbedded into his skin, in the shape of where their hands would first touch him.

He had to admit, the placement was… interesting. When he was a young boy he hadn’t thought anything of the handprints over his mouth and on his shoulder other than trying to figure out the logistics of how in the world they’d achieve it.

He had endured a fair share of jokes at his expense over the handprint covering his mouth, fingers stretched to curl over his jaw and across his cheekbone, thumb pressed into his opposite cheek.

”Even yer soulmate’ll want ye to shut yer gob, lad!” His Nan had crowed once when he’d been particularly talkative while visiting her for the weekend as a boy.

Yes the handprint at his mouth had been fodder for conversation everywhere he went, especially when he went into the military.

Soap joined up as soon as he could—feeling a preternatural pull sending him around the globe—and settled into his role with ease, gaining a fair amount of notoriety for both his achievements and the very obvious soul mark on his face. After all, everyone knew what a large risk it was to have such an obvious weakness exposed, when the pain was excruciating if anyone who wasn’t your soulmate touched the mark.

But Soap, young and cocky with just enough skill to back up his boasting, never worried. Because no enemy would get close enough for him to worry about it.

Until Las Almas, anyway.

Alone, he had to make his way through the city in the pouring rain without any weapons, avoiding Graves’s shadows at all costs when he could.

He was clearing corners in a building, trying to avoid detection, when bare hands came out of the dark behind him, landing over his mouth and on his shoulder right over his marks.

He grunted, his hands flying up to grip the arm barred across his throat reflexively as his eyes went wide, and a flash of red light blinded him momentarily as something snapped into place deep within his being.

The soul bond.

He whirled around, wild-eyed and staring in disbelief at the injured Shadow before him, and found his soulmate staring back with a shocked expression that mirrored his own.

“Steamin’ Jesus….” He muttered.