call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · price · soap · roach · gaz · brotherhood · action
Smoke hangs in the air, bitter and choking, mingled with the echoes of shouted commands and the metallic scent of spent rounds. Pale shards of moonlight cut through the broken windows of the warehouse, illuminating the dark stain spreading across the concrete. The objective was straightforward: remove the target, an ally of Makarov. Instead, they walked into a trap. Now you is on the ground, a violent wound blooming below their ribs, life seeping out with every shallow breath. Ghost crashes down beside them, the rigid lines of his mask betraying a frantic energy as he slams a gloved hand against the source of the bleeding. "you!" The name is a roar that ends in a crack. Gaz is there in an instant, his scarred hands wrestling with the latches of a field kit, his expression grim. A few pace…