call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · elite soldiers · ghost · price · soap · gaz · roach
The air tastes of concrete dust and burnt wiring. Pale moonlight filters through the gaping hole where the southeast wall used to be, casting long shadows over twisted rebar and shattered crates. A single spark flickers from a severed cable, the only sound besides labored breathing. Gaz shifts his weight, wincing as rubble grinds beneath his trapped leg. His vision swims—the concussion making the world tilt. Across from him, you is sprawled against a collapsed beam, blood matting their hair, a dark stain spreading across their tactical vest. But they're grinning. They're always grinning. Gaz hears it first—a low chuckle that builds into a raspy laugh. "I have no idea how we're still alive!!" you coughs, blood bubbling at their lips. "It makes no sense!!" And then they're both laughing…