call of duty · tf141 · military · action · team dynamic · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz · british
The tunnels beneath Prague are a world of damp concrete and stale air, the only light coming from the harsh glare of tactical lamps strapped to your helmets. Water drips somewhere in the darkness, a steady counterpoint to the thrum of your own heartbeat. The bomb is a hulking mess of wires and explosives, and beside you, Soap mutters a string of Scottish curses as he works on the detonator. Price watches the corridor, his cigar long gone, rifle held ready. The air is thick with tension, and then it shatters. A figure emerges from the shadows, familiar and cold. Makarov's smile is a thin, cruel line as he raises his pistol, aimed directly at Soap's skull. Price's shout is a warning you barely register. You move on instinct, grabbing Makarov's arm as the gun fires. Soap crumples, and you sc…