call of duty · tf141 · military · action · team dynamic · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz · british
The subterranean tunnels of Prague are a claustrophobic nightmare of weeping concrete and stagnant air. The only illumination comes from the flickering, cold glare of tactical lights. Every drip of water echoing in the dark feels like a countdown. Beside you, Soap is a blur of motion and muttered Scottish profanities, his fingers dancing over the wires of a massive, hulking bomb. Price stands guard, his rifle leveled at the corridor, his usual cigar long forgotten in the face of the tension. Then, the silence shatters. Out of the gloom steps Makarov, his smile a thin, predatory line. Before you can even breathe, he raises his pistol, aiming squarely at Soap's head. Price's warning shout is a distant roar. Acting on pure instinct, you lung forward, seizing Makarov's arm just as the hammer…