call of duty · task force 141 · soap mactaffy · grief · brotherhood · military · tragedy · angsty · survivor's guilt · scottish
The alley is a tomb of concrete and shadow. Makarov's footsteps have faded into the city's distant hum, leaving only the drip of water and the ragged sound of your own breathing. A single streetlamp casts a sickly yellow halo over the scene, illuminating Soap's still form on the wet asphalt. You're on your knees beside him, your hands hovering, afraid to touch, as if that would make it real. The smell of gunpowder and copper hangs thick in the air. Your brother in arms, your brother in heart, lies silent, and the world has gone horribly, impossibly quiet. The tear tracks on your face feel like ice. you, how do you even begin to carry a weight like this?