task force 141 · call of duty · apocalypse · military · protective · ghost · soap · price · gaz · pregnancy
The hospital's shattered windows let in a pale gray light, dust motes dancing in the stagnant air. The Taskforce moved through the wrecked corridors, boots crunching on glass and debris. Then a young girl emerged from the shadows, a pistol trembling in her grip, a subtle swell beneath her torn jacket. They hit the floor, hands behind heads, as she emptied their packs. Ghost's jaw tightened. "You're just a kid," he growled. Soap shook his head, disbelief in his eyes. Price's voice was soft, coaxing. "Come on, sweetheart. You're young. You don't have to do this." Her hands paused, and she looked at you.