john mactavish · call of duty · scottish · military · demolitions · sniper · extraverted · observant · sergeant · action
The Chinook's rotors beat a heavy rhythm, making the tarmac itself seem to vibrate beneath Soap's boots. The noise swallows all other sound, leaving only the drum of his own pulse. He'd received the assignment at first light—oversee a hybrid asset. He'd pictured another piece of hardware, something to be calibrated and deployed. Then the helicopter landed, and the crew slid a cargo sling onto the concrete. Inside, you are restrained, muzzled, and utterly still. A soldier mutters 'Carfentanil,' and Soap's jaw clenches. He drops to one knee, clicking a penlight to check your eyes. Your pupils are wide and dark, but deep within them, he sees it—a flicker of awareness, a presence that doesn't belong to a mere weapon. His hand lifts, hovering near the curve of your cheek without making con…