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Soap could feel the dirt and dust in his lungs as he raced through the tunnels, rushing to find Makarov. The echos of gunfire down the chunnel made his ears ring sharply, but he carried on still. The comforting presence of his captain behind him allowed him to remain vigilant, stopping every few paces to drop the enemies swarming them.
He heard the gruff voice behind him call out, “Soap, let’s move. We don’t rest until Makarov’s in the dirt.”
Soap furrowed his brow, allowing his captain to walk ahead of him as they walked alongside the tracks, hearing the distant sounds of trains. “He’s not getting out alive this time, sir…”
They’d been tracking him for days, barely taking time to rest and recuperate. A bone-deep exhaustion was evident in the men, but they pushed forward. After a few moments, the comms clicked with a panicked voice. “Gaz to Six— Konni’s pressing hard. We’re pinned down!”
“Means Makarov’s still here.” The captain's voice was clipped and short, frustration and exhaustion held in every syllable. They finally entered an open space, immediately being met with enemy fire as the Konni soldiers protected something just a few paces ahead. Soap ducked quickly behind cover, returning fire as swiftly as he could. His heart raced, and sweat poured down his brow. Finally, he could make out what they were protecting so valiantly.
“Captain, Konni’s guarding a bomb!” He called out, rushing to the device as soon as the area was cleared.
“I see it– SFO, secure the perimeter!” Price called out, coming alongside Soap to survey the explosive. “Soap, get on that bomb!”
“Aye…” He called out, crouching down to survey the wiring. It was intricate, and he followed it to another panel on the other side. A timer ticked down in front of him, and he felt his heart matching the rhythm. “Two minutes, sir!”
Soap zeroed in on disarming the bomb, blocking off the outside distractions as Price called for the rest of the team to provide backup. He began fiddling with the extensive wiring, pulling where necessary until he reached a roadblock. “Six, the bomb is a two-man job… work with me!”
After a few moments of cover fire, the captain rushed over to pull out his snake cam and survey the bomb. “Can we disarm it?” Soap didn’t answer, feeling a stress headache well up as the seconds counted down. “I’m in. Talk to me, Soap.”
Soap felt his stomach turn, “Bomb’s dirty, Captain— C4 and radioactive powder.”
Price growled in frustration, scanning the inside of the explosive, “It’ll implode the tunnel and hit Europe… How do we disarm it?”
Soap reached into the wiring of the timer, hoping it would buy them more time. “I need the manufacturer logo on the large circuit board.”
“Logo is a bear,” Price yelled over the sounds of trains rushing past, distant shots coming from the tunnels. More Konni were rushing to their location and wasting their precious time.
“Copy– Bear. Cutting the wire…” He snipped the wire, involuntarily wincing as he awaited for anything. There was a soft click before the timer went offline, stopping the countdown. They still needed to disarm the rest of the bomb and render it useless. “Got it! That bought us some time!”
Suddenly, the comms crackled to life as Ghost shouted, “Price! Be advised, Makarov is in the chunnel– He’s heading your way!”
Price tensed, pulling back to look at the sergeant, “Soap, you hear that?”
“Affirm– I’m not leaving this bomb, captain…” Soap returned to the inner workings of the bomb, doing his best to dismantle the components. Suddenly, a burning pain shot through his leg, and he cried out, “I’m hit!”
Price’s voice grew strong with worry, “Soap! Get your gun up!”
Soap took deep, strangled breaths through gritted teeth, “It’ll blow if I let go, captain! Cover me!” He attempted to ignore the searing pain in his leg as he continued pulling apart the bomb. He heard the sounds of gunfire all around him, sweat dripping down his face as he pulled at wires, disconnecting the explosives. Gaz’s voice crackled onto comms, “We’re pinned down, Cap! Konni’s blocking the tunnels!”
“Push through ‘em!” Price called, desperately trying to keep the enemy back as Soap worked.
“Keep ‘em off me, captain!” He called out, hearing the sound of a pulled fly past him, nearly grazing his back. After a few more moments, the firefight stopped, and Price approached him again.
“We’re clear– Police are KIA.” Soap looked out at the bodies scattered around them, leaving only the captain and himself. Completely vulnerable to any incoming attacks. He took in a shaky inhale and refocused on the bomb.
“Need you back on that snake cam, captain!” Price quickly crouched back over the bomb, surveying the cam once more.
“0-7 to Six, we’re punching through now!” Soap felt a rush of relief rush through his body at Ghost's voice. They were going to be okay.
“Get here!” Price growled out before addressing the sergeant. “What’s next, Soap?” The captain must have noticed the panicked state of the man, softening his tone as he refocused.
“Locate the blasting cap. Bottom lefthand corner…”
“Copy, blasting cap. Attached to the C4.”
“Aye, there’s a serial number on it. Gimme the third number…”
Price paused for a moment, hesitating. “Number nine.”
Soap located the red wire and pulled out his pliers. “Copy– Good work– This bomb has two fuses. We need to cut them both at the same time! Red wire!”
Price pulled off the snake cam, glancing at Soap. “Red wire, got it.” Suddenly, movement out of the corner of his eyes stopped him. Before he could say anything, the gun was fired, hitting Soap straight through the chest plate. Soap fell rough on his side, and the air knocked from his lungs.
“Soap— SOAP!!!” The captain called out before Makarov rushed over to him, feeling a bullet graze past his side and knock him to the floor.
“Stay back- They’re mine!” Makaraov called out, a sick grin on his face. Soap’s face scrunched up in pain as he tried to will himself back up. He glanced over and saw Price reaching for his gun before Makarov slammed his foot down onto the captain’s hand, his other moving to apply pressure to his chest. “Take this to hell with you, Captain…”
Makarov’s voice was low and taunting, his eyes cold and dead as he aimed the barrel down at his captain. “Never bury your enemies alive…” Soap forced himself back up on shaky hands, praying his already injured leg would hold.
Just before Makarov pulled the trigger, Soap grabbed his knife and lunged for Makarov, burying the hilt into the man’s face, slicing the man’s ear and cheek open in a swift movement. Before he could get time to recover, Makarov flipped around and slammed against his elbow, a soft crack echoing through the tunnel. Soap grunted in an effort to remain upright, his face contorting in pain.
Price attempted to push up and reach Makarov, but the man slammed his foot against his chest, forcing the captain down as he gasped for air. Within a few moments, another gunshot was heard, and Soap’s body thudded to the floor. “NO!”
More enemies swarmed the area before Ghost and Gaz breached the scene, crying out for their teammates. Ghost’s voice cracked in anguish at the sergeant sprawled out on the floor, “Johnny!!” He dropped as many enemies as he could, rushing over to his sergeant with his heart in his throat.
Trembling fingers reached the man’s pulse point, and he felt his body relax at the slow, faint rhythm. He needed medical immediately if he was going to make it out of this. Ghost returned to the present as he watched Gaz and Price return fire on Makarov until they were cut off by a passing train.
“They’re gone.” Gaz rasped out, rushing to Soap’s side.
“Focus on the bomb, I’ve got him!” Ghost growled out, pulling off his pack to grab his medkit. He swiftly pulled out a tourniquet and wrapped it onto Johnny’s leg, tightening it with all his strength. His eyes moved up to the shoulder, found steadily bleeding. “Come on, stay with me, Johnny…”
Soap groaned softly, his eyes closing to squint at the lights hazily. “Shit…” He hissed in pain as Ghost applied pressure to the gunshot.
“You’re alright, I’ve got you… Medical is on the way.” Ghost’s voice was soft, the simmering panic leaking in and polluting the gentle tone.
Soap blearily blinked up at him before his eyes shifted to stare at his shoulder. “Mmm… not the good one…” Ghost couldn’t help the affectionate puff of air.
“It’ll be alright, Johnny. We’ll get you patched up and looking brand new.”
Moments later, Price and Gaz rushed over, crouching to check on Soap. Gaz moved to check the tourniquet while Price went towards his head, patting it softly. “You did good, sergeant.”
“All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe. We need medical and evac immediately.” There were murmurs of confirmation over the radio.
Ghost continued applying pressure to the wound, “It’s alright, Johnny. I’ve got you.”
After several months of recovery and physical therapy, Soap was discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health. Price ordered him under the strict command of light duty for the rest of the year to regain strength. Now, he was sitting in a dingy bar with the rest of the team, leaning back his crutch beside him. Ghost hovered nearby, always a few paces away, always worrying over him.
“I promise I’m fine, Lt. I’ve almost fully recovered.” He huffed gently, a fond smile slipping onto his face. Ghost didn't say anything but continued to hover. “Any news on Makarov, cap?”
“Negative; seems like he’s gone MIA. Seems like you got him pretty good, son.”
“Aye, if he knows what's good for him, he’ll stay that way,” Soap growled out, taking a pull of his scotch.
“We’ll get him, mate. Just wait. Can't hide in the shadows forever.” Gaz smiled, taking a swig of his glass. They were interrupted by the sound of the evening breaking news playing on a TV screen nearby. A frazzled reported spoke, her eyes shifting nervously for a few moments.
“We are here tonight covering the breaking story of a several-person hostage situation currently playing out at the US embassy in Moscow…”
After a few moments, Price’s phone rang, and he swiftly pulled it out—an unknown number flashing on the screen. Soap raised his eyes back to the screen, spotting the insignia for the Konni army.
“Speak of the goddamn devil…”