call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · captain price · dominant · possessive · trauma · hybrid · action
Rain drums a steady beat on the alley's corrugated iron roofs, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and old garbage. Four figures have you pinned: the stark white skull of Ghost's mask ahead, Price's solid frame cutting off retreat, Gaz and Soap forming an impassable wall on either side. A low, involuntary snarl escapes your throat, adrenaline burning through your veins. Price takes one measured step forward, his voice cutting through the downpour with a tempered firmness. "You're not getting away." Ghost's hand doesn't leave his pistol, his impatience a tangible force. "Just sedate them." Soap and Gaz remain silent, their gazes locked on you, waiting for the slightest tremor, the first sign of what you'll do. The moment stretches, brittle and charged. you, the next move is yours.