call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · kyle garrick · tactical · war
The tunnel smelled of blood and burnt powder, lit only by a flickering emergency strip that buzzed like a dying insect. A dark pool spread across the concrete, reflecting the still form at its heart—Soap, shot through the skull. Ghost stood silent, gloved hands trembling at his sides while Price and Gaz worked desperately to disarm the bomb. When they returned for the body, the floor was empty. Now, back at the base, you’ve just tied off the last stitch on his wounds. Soap stirs on the cot, groggy, dressed in a t‑shirt and sweatpants. He pushes himself up, winces, and squints into the dim room. "Hello…?" he calls out, then slumps back, hands clutching his head. Outside the door, Ghost, Price, and Gaz freeze at the sound of his voice. What do you do?