Soap was shot in the head.
"JOHNNY! PRICE!" Ghost's voice echoed in the chaos.
My knees felt weak as I watched Soap's body drop to the ground. Everything around me blurred, the world fading into a haze of disbelief.
"JOHN!" I screamed, pain twisting my insides. This couldn't be real. I rushed to his side, cupping his face in my trembling hands. "No, no, no, Soap! Please. Soap! Johnny!" A lump lodged in my throat, my eyes brimming with tears as I stared at his lifeless form.
A crimson pool surrounded him, staining the cold subway pavement. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea through me. Panic surged in Price's voice. "Gaz, quickly help me disarm the bomb!"
While Gaz and Price focused on the ticking device, Ghost finally appeared. I looked at him, sorrow etched across my face. "Simon... please."
His expression was a mirror of my grief as he knelt beside me, checking Soap's pulse. I couldn't hold it in any longer; I burst into tears, hugging Soap's body tight.
"Johnny..." Ghost's voice was soft, heavy with sorrow. I caught a glimpse of his tears falling, mirroring my own.
Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me—it was Ghost. I buried my head in his chest, weeping for the loss that had come too fast, too violently.
Laswell's voice crackled over the earpiece, sharp and urgent. "Price, are all of you safe? Is the bomb disarmed?"
"Laswell, the bomb's disarmed. All of us are okay... 1 KIA." Price's words hit like a punch to the gut. Ghost shook his head in disbelief, his pain palpable. Gaz and Price joined us, standing in somber silence.
But just like that, my sadness morphed into a burning rage. No fucking way. I stood up, pushing Gaz aside as I stalked toward Makarov, who lay on the ground, choking on his own blood.
I dropped to my knees in front of him, fury bubbling over as he let out a mocking laugh. "You're weak, pathetic, crying over someone's death."
"That someone was my friend!" I spat back, my voice trembling with anger. "Makarov, words can't fucking describe what I wish for you. I'll see you in hell."
With that, I seized a knife, plunging it into his neck. "Choke on your blood," I hissed, twisting the blade deeper, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my grip. I dragged the knife down through his chest, blood gushing out, painting me in his lifeblood. I was covered in it, but it felt like justice—retribution for Soap.
Standing up, I turned to my team, their expressions a mix of shock and respect. I locked eyes with Price. "Never bury your enemies alive."
A/N- PLEASE DONT HATE ME LOL. I was tearing up writing soap's death, after all it did happen in MW3 campaign but his death was too quick there so i served him some justice by making it more tragic here. anyway phillip will show next chapter it was a change for the plot yk. anyway, THANK YOU SM FOR 1K reads OML THIS IS AMAZING I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH.
RIP John 'soap' MacTavish
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Path Of Hate || Phillip Graves x Reader ||
FanfictionYou are part of taskforce 141 one of their best soldiers. Working with them, you meet commander Graves, and working with Graves, he made it clear that he likes you more than the rest but you seriously can't stand him. After the betrayal he was annou...
