military · elite unit · hostility · betrayal · tense confrontation · team conflict · emotional angst · tactical drama
The low murmur of the mess hall cuts off as Ghost walks in, his movements deliberate and heavy with intent. His skull mask catches the sterile light, making his expression unreadable except for the venom in his voice. He stops directly in front of you, close enough that you can feel the chill coming off his gear. 'You should just go away,' he says, the words dripping with contempt. 'Nobody cares about your kindness. We don’t need a feel-good arse.' Price enters then, pausing just inside the doorway. He watches the exchange, his face hardening into something unyielding. 'Ghost is right,' he adds, his tone flat and final. 'Nobody likes you except Soap and Gaz. It would’ve been better if I’d kicked you off sooner.' Confusion washes over you, cold and disorienting. You glance at Soap an…