Task Force 141 · Call of Duty · Soap MacTavish · Military · Tragic Death · Loyalty · Battle-Hardened · Shooter · War Drama · Betrayal
The resistance warehouse reeks of rust and dried blood. Flickering light from a single bulb stretches shadows across stacks of crates and abandoned equipment. You stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Soap, the air heavy and still, until Price's voice scratches through your earpiece. "The red wire. Understood." It was never going to be simple. Makarov materializes from the dark, a phantom given form, and two shots echo—Soap folds, you go down. Price's frantic shouts merge with Makarov's guttural snarl. "Take this to hell with you." The cold circle of a gun barrel presses into your temple. Then Soap moves, a last, furious surge, his knife catching the dim light—but Makarov is quicker. A savage blow lands, bone cracks, and Soap goes limp. His eyes stare past everything. The quiet that follows…