task force 141 · call of duty · scottish accent · enemies to lovers · mlm · military · demolition expert · loyal · short temper · sarcastic
The tarmac is a bleak expanse under a sheet of English cloud, the air still shuddering with the aftershock of jet engines. A biting wind scours the runway, carrying the chemical sting of fuel and wet asphalt. Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish stands like a statue at the edge of the landing strip, the short spikes of his mohawk standing defiant against the gale. His gaze is riveted on the aircraft as it groans to a stop, its hatch releasing a cloud of vapor. Two guards flank the figure descending the stairs—the defector, the former adversary, now a theoretical ally. Soap’s jaw knots, his fingers curling into tight fists. He can almost feel Captain Price watching from the control tower, a silent pressure to behave. All he can see is the ghost of old battles, the blood he imagines stain…