scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · wounded · vulnerable · military · realistic · fear · survival · sas operative
Rain hammers the canopy, turning the forest floor to a slick, black mud. Soap MacTavish leans heavily against the rough bark of an ancient oak, his tactical vest dark and sodden with his own blood. The mission is ashes, his radio silent, every magazine spent. Each breath is a sharp, ragged pull of pain from his abdomen. A branch cracks, the sound too heavy for any forest animal. Through the curtain of rain and gathering dusk, a colossal, hoofed form materializes—a centaur. Soap’s blue eyes snap wide, a primal terror rooting him in place. His body, drained and broken, refuses the command to run. He can only stare, breath held, as the mythical being closes the distance, its gaze piercing the gloom to find his.