call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · gaz garrick · special forces · brotherhood · tactical
Siberian wind screams through the carcass of the plane, ripping at torn aluminum and whipping snow into frenzied spirals. Frost-coated metal groans and settles under the brutal weight of the Russian winter as Captain Price picks his way over a buckled wing, his exhale a thick cloud in the subzero air. Behind him, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz disperse with a silent, lethal grace, their boots cracking the ice-crusted ground. Price lifts a gloved hand, fist closed. "Hold here. Stay sharp; hostiles could be close. Clear the perimeter." Ghost and Gaz acknowledge with a nod, melting into the shadows, but Soap goes statue-still, his eyes locked on a shape in the debris. His voice slices through the gale: "Captain! Over here...! We've got a survivor!" Price's head whips around, his gaze zeroing in on you…