#Chunnel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forsworned · 6 months

Text

SAVING SERGEANT MACTAVISH

Sypnosis: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽?

Warning(s): 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗏𝗂𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽/𝗀𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌.

Author's note: 𝖺𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁𝗁 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌!! 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖻𝗈𝗑 𝗆𝖾! 𝗂 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!!!!

𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌: 𝖼𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗒 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾! ˑ༄

⤷ 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈

CHAPTER ONE: KNOCKING AT DEATH'S DOOR

TUESDAY 23 NOVEMBER 2023

A surge of adrenaline kicked through your system as you navigated the labyrinthine train tunnels, flanked by your comrades, Johnny and Price. The thunderous rhythm of your heartbeat drowned out the distant whirring of passing trains. Your stomach still lurching at the sight of all the civilians dead on your way through the chunnel as you slid on the opposite side of where Johnny was crouched, reloading his gun. Anger brimmed against your tightened sternum as you were in hot pursuit of Makarov, shooting at Konni and hacking their sentry guns.

You couldn't help but inwardly scoff at the notion of an easy victory as you switched over to your pistol and shot at a soldier just a meter away. As if it weren't bad enough that Makarov was blowing up stadiums, stealing missiles, trapping women into prostitution rings, and gassing military bases, he was more than likely setting up another attack down here. The gravity of the situation was slowly setting heavily upon your burning chest, heightening your senses and sharpening your focus.

Locking eyes with Johnny behind the shelter of Jersey barriers that were getting plastered with ricocheting bullets, there was an unspoken reassurance passed between you—a silent nod in the form of a check-in in the face of danger. His swift action in engaging Konni soldiers echoed your own steadfastness, punctuated by the raid and sharp crack of gunfire.

In the heat of battle, your mind wandered in and out of throngs of memories over the course of months in light of your new diagnosis. You couldn't forget the way your teammates faces fell as they crowded the small doctor's office during your check up.

"But she's so young..." Price voice fell quiet as he stood beside you. Your feet swinging over the edge of the infirmary bed as you kept your gaze on the cold, white tiled floors.

"Hypertension is a common diagnosis amongst people in your field." The doctor took off his gloves, foot on the button of the trash to lift the lid as he tossed the latex into the bin. "I've had firefighters, cops, military personnel come by all the time being diagnosed with the same thing, usually asking for worker's comp." The doctor crossed his arms and peered over at the five of you.

Of course, they weren't going to just let you go to the doctor by yourself. It was practically an intervention at that point. After months of your complaints about the onset of severe headaches, blurred vision, chest pain, and the final straw—passing out on a mission. Price had had absolutely enough of it, nearly dragging you by the ear to come in and get a check up.

They all turned to you. Johnny was just so obviously dying to partake in the scolding fest you were soon going to endure from them, grinning from ear to ear with that mischevious glint in his eye. "Looks like we've gotta look after you, lassie."

It almost tickled you to see the soldier transitioning out of his silly, flirtatious persona who was always causing shenanigans and mishaps to one of a true, hardened sergeant who has more than earned his title. Your admiration and fondness for him had grown over the past few years of working along side him in the service. Feelings that you hadn't consciously prioritized, but rather somewhere in the backlog of your subconscious that was in the form of wet dreams, and the occasional rub out. Still, finding love on the battlefield wasn't ideal...

As cacophony erupted around you, and the world blurred momentarily, time became elusive as you found yourself sprawled upon the cold ground and a growing ache emerged to the bridge of your nose. Through the haze, Johnny's concerned figure materialized, disarming and jutting a knife coldly through your perpertator's throat before he urgently made his way to you. A lifeline in the midst of turmoil as the ringing in your ears turned deafening.

"...y'er okay!...[name], y'er alright." His voice, a calming anchor in the storm had penetrated the disorientation clouding your senses. With a gentle helping hand, he guided you back to coherence, his touch a binding force in the commotion.

"Y'r good, lass. C'mon, up ya go." Price's arrival is a welcomed sight, amongst the havoc where he remained an authoritative presence that presided over them. Together, they lifted you from the ground, steadying you; a common theme amongst you all in the 141. You shook your head to rid yourself out of your stupor, reality shifting once more.

"Yeah? Y'good, lassie?" Johnny patted your shoulder and a fleeting, wry grin graced your cracked lips.

"Atta girl." Price simpered at you, though there was a strained discomfort framed into his expression that he couldn't quite hide when he glanced over at you.

That's the thing about men, they couldn't conceal how they felt even if they tried. Stress was etched into their features in the form of crow's feet and silver whiskers weaved into their beards and the hair on their heads. And though he would never, ever admit it aloud, the fact of the matter was, you were the sole female on their squad and that left Price with a heightened sense of responsibility toward you, surpassing even that toward your male counterparts. The sentiment only deepened after your diagnosis, casting a shadow of concern over his every interaction with you.

But it didn't stop at him. Kyle, Simon and Johnny were constantly nagging, harking over it with meal plans and making sure you were taking your medication. Even going as far as not letting you come out of your room, so you could replenish your strength. It was obvious to you that it was for your best interest, but clearly at the cost of your own autonomy.

In the eerie silence punctuated only by the relentless rush of passing trains, the gravity of the situation becomes palpable once again. Fluorescent light reflecting off the shiny metal of the trains had bounced against your face, revealing the blood that trickled down your nose to your squadmates. A stark reminder of the perilous stakes at hand—a testament to the sacrifices demanded by duty.

"Here, lassie." Johnny shoved his hand in his pocket to fish out a wad of napkins and you couldn't help but snort a bit at his resourcefulness. He quickly dabbed at your nose, before taking your hand in his and holding it up to your nose and securing it place. "Chin up." His calloused fingertips under your chin quickened the pace of your heart, and small smile found the corners of his pink lips.

"SFO secure a perimeter!" Price's command sliced through the silence with unfaltering authority.

Johnny and Price exchanged a knowing glance, before the Scotsman left your side and scouted the area. He stopped in his tracks, and his cerculean eyes reamed at the sight of it.

"Captain, Konni's guardin' a bomb..." His words hang heavy in the air, the magnitude of the revelation sank in.

The looming threat of the undetonated vessel creeping back in to the imminent danger posed by Makarov's machinations—a threat that had be neutralized at any cost. The urgency snapped you from your reverie, a swift gesture of wiping away the blood from your nose with the back of your hand as you shoved the bloody napkin into your back pocket, and you're back in the fray.

Price doesn't waste any time, though a look of grit washed over his grim features. "Soap--Get on that bomb!"

Yet, Johnny is already at work, his expertise in demolition evident as he knelt beside the device. A skillset you sorely lacked, almost a little too grateful for the presence of Johnny and Price to avert disaster because let's face it, you'd be shit out of luck otherwise. "Two minutes, sir...!"

"All Bravo--Bomb located in crossover platform! I need cover here--NOW!" Price bellowed out over the comms. It felt like at any moment Konni soldier's were going to rush the group.

"Rog--Pushing your way!" Kyle's response is swift, the clatter of metal meeting concrete punctuated by the billowing smoke obscuring the enemy's advance.

"Contact!" A soldier's cry jolted you into action.

Price's molars mashed together at the sight. "Fuckin' hell--Get to work, Soap!"

"Six, bomb is a two man job...work with me...! Captain, I need you with me on the bomb now!" Johnny's voice resonated with haste as he beckoned to Price. You can only watch from the sidelines as the two of them delved into the intricate task of disarming the bomb.

Your gaze shifted frantically from one position to another, vigilant against any attempts by the enemy to flank you. And yet, even in the middle of a state of disorder, you maintained your composure, every shot calculated and precise. Each moment felt like an eternity as you stood your ground, ensuring the safety of your team while they work profusely.

"Price, be advised, Makarov is in the chunnel--He's headin' y'r way!" Ghost rasped over the comms and your heart is set into action once more. With every passing second, the peril of the situation crystallized, casting aside any illusions of safety or reprieve. Not even a moment to process the heaviness you were starting to feel in your eyes, nor the brewing, dull onset of the migraine you were to receive, itching at the back of your head.

There was a barter between Johnny and Price that fell on deaf ears, as you protected them from the onslaught of bullets. But despite your focused efforts to shield them, a chilling realization dawned upon you as Johnny's pained cry reverberated in your ears. You paused turning back to him but he seemingly continued his task despite blood gushing out of his gunshot wound.

There was an unpleasant dryness in your mouth as your jaw ticked, knowing you couldn't drop your position to help patch him up.

"It'll blow if I let go, Captain! [name]! Cover me!" Johnny called out over the noise. In one swift movement you're alongside Price in an effort to support Johnny from being injured any further to complete the job.

"Fuuuck...We need...NOW!" Price's voice was drowning in and out of your auditary pathways. Another exchange over the comms added to the disorientation, each word blending into a blur as panic threatened to overwhelm you. Fear was setting in...no, no, not fear. It was the fiery intensity of your intuition tottering you back in an effort to safeguard Johnny even at the cost of your life.

The two of you cleared the room out, before he's called back to Johnny's side to help him disarm the threat. Their voices going in and out.

"...red wire."

"Red wire...got it."

There was an impeding sense of doom that struck right through your heart before you let your weapon fall slightly to the side to reload it, your head instinctually whipping a mere nanosecond before the man of the hour emerged from the darkness of the tunnels with his men.

"Makarov!" You exclaimed, but you felt the oxygen withdrawing from your lungs and your vocal chords didn't seem to be functioning.

What the fuck...?

"Stay back. They're mine...!!" Makarov's chilling command made all the blood drain from your face.

Gunshots rang out behind you, but Johnny and Price were already down, blood staining the ground beneath them. Frozen in horror, you watched helplessly as Makarov asserted his dominance, his foot pressing down on Price's neck.

Your mind raced, neurons firing wildly as you struggled to react. Was it the blow from the AK-47 or a possible stroke that rendered you moored where you sat? You didn't know.

Without skipping a beat, the Scotsman is back up, a swift movement to stab Makarov to the arm.

No...

You saw it coming from a mile away. Not an ounce of hesitation in his eyes as the Russian lifted his gun to shoot Johnny point blank in the head.

"No!!" Price roared out, but it's too late. Johnny's lifeless body hit the ground and the world seemed to move in a familiar slow motion.

Your eyes never leaving Johnny's body. Blood trickled out of his gunshot wound and you were completely immobile. Enemy forces moved in and the echoing of voices continued, vibrating into your skull. Pain radiated from your neck, jaw, shoulders, arms and even to your back and you struggled to swallow the vomit that was starting to brim up your esophagus.

"...Captain!!"

"Price, Johnny!!"

The eardrum shattering noise of gunshot clattered loudly against your senses as you felt the air leaving your lungs. Simon and Kyle rushed in as the Konni soldiers and Makarov made a run for it. And just like that, he's gone once again, slipping right through your fingers. The whirring of the train was nothing but a fading memory, crushing the body of a Konni soldier that Makarov pawned.

Checkmate.

"Johnny!" Simon is knelt beside Johnny's corpse, extending his fingers to his pulse. But of course, he felt nothing. Just the warmth leaving his deceased body as Kyle and Price work meticulously to disarm the bomb. Your vision blurred as you felt a pang hitting deep in your chest and suddenly you heard yourself heaving, clawing at your chest for any ounce of oxygen.

The sound of the beeping stopped. "Disarmed...disarmed...we're clear." Kyle announced as he and Price rose from their kneeling positions to turn back to Simon and Johnny, too preoccupied with the horrific sight in front of them to see that you were gasping for air.

"All stations, this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe...KIA..."

KIA...

You felt your body lose control of all its senses as the room began to spin and your vision was doubling.

"[name]." Price's head snapped in your direction. The recognizable dread alerting his senses as he took one look at your form before it dropped to the floor. "...[name]...! [name]! ....stay with me!"

Several voices were calling out to you, but they were slowly inundating. A soothing warmth enveloped you, cocooning you in a comforting embrace. Sensations of weightlessness engulfed you, as if you were suspended in the void, detached from the world around you.

Was this death?

It seemed plausible. After all, you had lived a life of righteousness, fighting tirelessly for what you believed in. At least, that's what your comrades and therapist had assured you. When was your last therapy session? A week ago? Or was it your psych eval?

You couldn't recall. It felt nice. This was nice.

In the haze of uncertainty, the image of Johnny's warm, reassuring smile materialized before you, tugging at your heartstrings with an overwhelming surge of emotion.

"I failed you." You whispered, the weight of regret heavy in your words.

"No, ye didn't. There's still time." His thick, Scottish accent echoed in your mind, a plea tinged with desperation. His image beginning to dissipate, fading into a bright white light as you attempted to grab him but you were met with nothing.

"Johnny, wait...!"

And in that moment, you jolted awake, gasping for air, the remnants of the dream clinging to your consciousness like a lingering shadow. Cold sweat clung to your clothes and the baby hairs on your forehead, as you felt your pulse going wild at the sight of your room. Sunlight filtered through your blinds as you drank in the familiar scenery. Like you had lived this day before.

How long had you been out?

Your fitbit beeping loudly on your wrist, hoisting you back into your "reality" and the rapping on your door jostled you awake.

"[Name], are ye alright?"

What...

Your body went rigid at the voice. That rich, Scottish accent that you adored was undeniable. It couldn't be.

Slowly, but surely you peeled off your sheets making a stride for the door.

More rapping. "[name]." He sighed. "Need t'know yer alright, lassie."

You simply had to be dreaming at this point. Right. It was a dream. Nothing more. You were just reliving one of your memories with him, a flash of your life right before your very eyes as you passed away, moving gently into the light. But still. Something about the way everything was exactly as it should have been was uncanny.

The decor on your walls, the crooked framed photo of you and your squadmates clinking beer glasses together, even down right to the idiotic bobblehead of Price that Johnny gifted you for your birthday as a gag gift. It was all there.

Or maybe you just had a detail-oriented mind that had the ability to recall everything as it was. You wouldn't put it past you.

"Ya know maybe, 'll jus' eat the banana choco chip pancakes I made for ye." He teased, behind the door as your shaky hand gripped the knob. You felt your lip quiver for a moment. Emotions were starting to overwhelm you. Damned it all to hell if it were a dream. You'd give anything to see him alive again.

"C'mon, open up!"

He laughed, but there was a pause as he heard the slight jingle of the knob as you touched it. Your dry lips were flaky under the quick swipe of your tongue as your hand trembled, grappling with the reality of the situation. With a deep breath, you summoned the courage to twist the knob, your heart pounding in your chest as anticipation mingled with disbelief.

As the door creaked open, revealing the figure on the other side, your breath caught in your throat. There he stood, unmistakably Johnny, his familiar grin lighting up his face as he met your gaze with warmth and affection.

"Ah, there ye are, lassie," he exclaimed, his voice a comforting melody that washed over you like a gentle wave. "Ye had me worried fer a moment there."

The sight of him standing before you, so vivid and real, defied all logic and reason. Was this truly happening, or were you still ensnared in the clutches of a dream?

301 notes · View notes