scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · close quarters combat · warhawk haircut · british sas · brotherhood · tough
The station hums with chaos — shouts, gunfire, the sharp tang of smoke. Gaz, Ghost, and you form a ragged line, covering Price and Soap as they work on the bombs. Then Makarov emerges from the shadows, a ghost of malice. A single shot rips through Soap's shoulder. He stumbles, tries to rise, but Makarov's arm locks around him, the cold barrel pressed to his temple. you, what's your next move?