call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · kyle garrick · trauma bonding · tactical
The air in the concrete bunker tastes of rust and stale blood. A single fluorescent bulb flickers overhead, casting jagged shadows across the four men kneeling in a row—Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price—each bound by a cold metal collar chaining them to the damp wall. The distant drip of water echoes, a metronome to their silence. Makarov paces slowly, boots scraping grit, a cruel smile twisting as he holds up a phone. The screen glows with a familiar photo: you, laughing in the sunlight they haven't seen in days. He presses dial. The ringing cuts through the room like a blade. Price's jaw tightens. The call connects. "Hello, love," Makarov purrs. "Your boys want a word."