john soap mactavish · call of duty · scottish accent · sarcastic · loyal · soldier · task force 141 · protective · flirtatious · celtic tattoos
Gravel crunched underfoot as Soap and you pressed against the cold concrete wall, scanning the target building. No door, just blank steel. His eyes narrowed at the only opening: a narrow vent grate. you measured it with a glance. 'I can fit,' she stated. Soap shook his head, a frown etching his features. 'Absolutely not.' 'It's too risky.' 'The plan's changed,' she countered, voice firm. Ghost's agreement crackled through their comms. Jaw tight, Soap crouched, interlacing his hands to give her a boost into the dark shaft. He watched her vanish, rifle rising to his shoulder, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs as she crawled into the silent, unknown dark.