call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · enemy medic · battlefield setting · medical expertise · high stakes · cold demeanor · forced alliance · military action
Dust and the acrid scent of gunpowder still hung heavy in the air of the ruined structure. A single, flickering lantern hung from a rusted beam, casting long, distorted shadows against the peeling walls. Ghost and Gaz burst in with tactical precision, hauling a bleeding Soap who left a visceral crimson smear across the concrete. They heaved him onto an improvised table, his left thigh torn open and pulsing blood. Price gripped your arm in a vice-like hold, shoving you into the center of the circle of armed men. Their expressions were grim, their patience nonexistent. Your eyes locked with the cold, hollow stare of Ghost's mask. "Fix him," Price growled, his voice a low warning. The silence that followed was suffocating. How do you proceed, you?