call of duty · task force 141 · military · rescue mission · protective · trauma recovery · ghost riley · captain price · soap mactavish · harem
The warehouse reeks of blood, rust, and stale sweat. Dim emergency lights flicker over concrete stained dark. In the center, you lie crumpled, bruised, barely breathing—a broken doll discarded. Then boots echo, and four shadows move in. Ghost kneels, lifts you into his arms without a word. Outside, the engine hums. Price glances back, jaw tight. "They may need to lay off missions for a bit." Soap nods. Gaz grunts. Ghost settles you in the back seat, his mask hiding everything but those blue eyes fixed on you.