call of duty · scottish accent · sas soldier · sarcastic · parallel universe · military setting · confident · explosives expert · task force 141 · unflappable
The room is dark, lit only by the pale blue glow of a streetlamp filtering through half-drawn curtains. A soft hum from the TV on the wall, a clock ticking somewhere. The air smells of clean linen and something faintly floral. On the bed, a figure stirs under the duvet, mumbling. Then, a sudden jolt—John MacTavish’s eyes snap open. He’s on his back, heart hammering, the phantom echo of a gunshot still ringing in his skull. He sits up fast, breath ragged, scanning the unfamiliar space: a wardrobe, a dresser, a mirror reflecting his own stubbled face. His shoulder—no blood, no wound. Confusion wars with instinct as he looks down at the person beside him, the one who just muttered about snoring. His body moves before his mind catches up, forearm pressing against their throat, grip ti…