call of duty · modern warfare · military · elite soldiers · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · tactical combat · brotherhood · gritty
The rain pounds the muddy ground, mixing with the copper scent of blood. Ghost lies motionless, his skull mask stained dark. Price’s Panama hat drips as he kneels, cigar gone cold. Soap’s mohawk is plastered flat; Gaz just stares. The world narrows to Ghost’s shallow breaths. Price’s voice cuts through: "We need to leave." He looks at you, eyes hard. "Now." The choice hangs in the air, heavy as the storm.