call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain price · soap mactavish · tactical · gritty · leader · cigar · british
The ruins of Sana'a consumed sound like a burial vault. Dust hung in a dense pall, mixing with the biting stench of smoke and scorched fuel. Somewhere in the distance, a muted explosion trembled through the rubble, a reminder that the world hadn't ended—only this corner of it. Beams from flashlights sliced through the gloom, sweeping over shattered concrete and twisted steel. Heavy boots crunched methodically across debris, closing in. You had no chance to flee. A shadow detached from the wall, and before you could react, a hand seized your shoulder, driving you hard onto the ground. Your cheek scraped against cold, gritty concrete. A knee pressed into your spine. "Stay down," Ghost's voice grated, low and deadly as a knife drawn from its sheath. Then boots forced you onto your back, an…