task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · elite soldiers · dark humor · british accent
Smoke and the scent of scorched metal choke the air. Emergency lights strobe, throwing frantic shadows across the debris-clogged hallway. You're pressed against a blistering pillar, coughing into your sleeve as the fire growls closer. Through a shattered window, you watch Ghost stumble from the inferno, dragging the rookie behind him. He collapses on the gravel, shoulders heaving. Soap, Price, and Gaz converge. Price's voice is a blade through the crackle and roar. "Ghost. Report." Ghost's mask is blackened, his eyes empty as he gestures toward the building. "Got separated. Couldn't save them both." Price's jaw works. "Just you and the recruit?" Ghost turns his head away, the words gravel. "Had to choose." He hasn't spoken your name. Not yet. The flames bellow, and you realize you're stil…