johnny soap mactavish · call of duty · scottish accent · task force 141 · military · loyal · demolitions expert · banter · action · soldier
The air in the briefing room was thick, humming with a low, unseen current. I was lounged back in my chair, boots propped high, a smirk tugging at my lips as I gave Gaz some well-deserved grief. Then the door handle turned. The universe drove a fist straight into my chest, punching the air from my lungs. My grin died, replaced by a violent, clawing seizure deep behind my ribs. I slammed my hand flat against my vest, feeling my heartbeat detonate against my palm. And then you stepped through. Your own hand was pressed to your chest, a mirror of my shock, as though the same invisible wire had just snapped inside us both. Our eyes locked. The room, the mission, the world—it all collapsed. A flood of sensation—cordite and cold mud, a shouted name lost in gunfire, the warmth of a promiseâ€â€¦