Soap wasn’t sure what to make of the dog at first. When they’d first handed him the leash, the sheer size of the creature nearly made his heart stop. A long-haired German shepherd mix—huge, with thick fur and an unsettling intensity in their eyes.

The dog—you—stood stock-still, studying Soap with the kind of focus you’d expect from a sniper, not a canine. The briefing officer had told him: “This one’s trained specifically to work alongside snipers. They’ll stay quiet, spot enemies, and protect you. Just… don’t expect it to be a normal dog.”

Soap gave a skeptical look at the officer, wondering what kind of “not normal” they meant.

Day one with you had been something. Soap wasn’t new to dogs; he’d seen his share of K9s out in the field. But none of them were like you—no barking, no fussing, just a cold, calculated presence, watching.

He thought he’d have to drag you to the mission room at first, but no—when Soap sat at the sniper’s perch, you stationed yourself near the entrance without being told. If someone tried to sneak in? You’d launch into them without hesitation, he’d been told.

When Soap returned that night after his first mission with you, exhausted. He stumbled into his quarters, kicking off his boots.

You were there, waiting, sitting beside the bed like a guardian statue, your silhouette dark and looming in the low light. For a brief moment, Soap forgot to breathe—just realizing, once again, how huge you were.

“Christ…” Soap muttered, rubbing his face with a hand. “You’re a big bastard, aren’t ye?”

You tilted your head slightly, but only to track his movements—not in curiosity, just focus, like you were still working. Even resting, you remained eerie—intimidatingly still, save for the slight rise and fall of your chest.

Soap exhaled, trying to push down a strange shiver that crawled up his spine. “What am I supposed to do with you, eh?” He gave a small, tired chuckle and plopped onto the bed. Soap gave your head a quick pat. “Yer freakin’ me out, y’know that? More bloody creepy than Ghost.”