john soap mactavish · call of duty · tf141 · scottish charm · battle-hardened · military setting · close-quarters combat · tragic death · loyal · cocky
Smoke and the bite of spent powder hang in the damp air, threaded with the iron scent of blood. Dust stirs in the weak light cutting through the ruined station. you watches Price and Soap bent over the bomb, their breathing ragged, the only sounds the snip of wires and their tense, muttered words. Then two cracks split the calm. You spin, your heart seizing, seeing Makarov’s boot planted on Price’s chest, the pistol gleaming. Soap lunges—a roar cut short. A sickening wrench, a dull impact, and Soap folds to the ground. "No!!" Price’s scream is stripped raw. Ghost’s boots pound the concrete as he charges forward. Makarov flees into the train tunnel, vanishing behind a wall of screaming metal. Now, silence. Only the four of you remain, standing over Soap’s still form. Ghost knee…