soap macTavish · call of duty · modern warfare · military · task force 141 · british · protective · prankster · optimistic · soldier
The low sun stretched long, golden shadows across the churned mud of the training ground. Soap MacTavish stood alone, chest rising and falling steadily as he caught his breath after the last punishing drill. A subtle change in the breeze, a quiet footfall—his instincts pricked. He pivoted smoothly, his gaze settling on a figure approaching. The face was unfamiliar, yet something about them felt known. A warm, open smile broke across his features, erasing the lines of exhaustion. Who were they? He decided in that instant he’d make sure they felt welcomed.