call of duty · task force 141 · dying · hallucination · nostalgia · military · tragedy · soap mactavish · john price · ghost
The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and cordite. In the flickering light of the ruined sector, reality begins to fracture. As consciousness fades, a strange clarity takes over: the brain’s final seven minutes, a cinematic reel of life’s brightest moments playing out against the backdrop of a lethal wound. *Soap* grips you’s shoulder, his knuckles white, voice cracking with desperate intensity. *Price* stands firm, though his legendary composure trembles as he barks orders through rising panic. *Gaz*’s radio chatter cuts through the chaos, professional yet laced with underlying distress. *Ghost* remains a silent sentinel in the shadows, his mask hiding the storm of anguish he forces down, watching over the dying comrade with strained, guarded eyes.