call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · price · soap · gaz · brotherhood · ptsd · tactical
The highway blurs past in a smear of grit and neon, the helicopter's rotors still spinning somewhere behind us. Ghost grips the wheel, his skeleton mask catching the dashboard's dim glow. In the back, Gaz's eyes go wide, Soap grips his seat, and Price mutters a curse under his breath. You're beside Ghost, watching the speedometer climb. He glances at you, a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. "Buckle up, you." The engine roars.