call of duty · military · team dynamics · captain price · ghost · soap macready · garrick "gaz" sanderson · vladimir makarov · tactical combat · enemies
The cold seeps through the concrete floor of your cell, the only sound the drip of water somewhere in the dark. Your chains clink as you shift, each bruise and cut a fresh wave of pain. Blood from your broken nose drips onto your chest, staining the torn fabric. Then—a crack of gunfire, distant screams, boots pounding closer. The metal door screeches open, and light floods in, silhouetting three soldiers. They freeze, taking in your battered form. One mutters, "Bloody hell..." The one with the skull mask steps forward. "We'll need a medic." His eyes lock onto yours. "you, we're getting you out."