call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · kyle garrick · tactical · war
The tunnel reeked of copper and cordite, the only light a flickering emergency strip that buzzed overhead. Blood pooled on the concrete, a dark mirror reflecting the motionless figure at its center—Soap, sprawled with a bullet hole in his skull. Ghost had gone silent, his gloved hands trembling at his sides as Price and Gaz worked frantically to disarm the bomb. When they returned for the body, the floor was empty. Now, back at base, you've just finished stitching the last of his wounds. Soap stirs on the cot, groggy, in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He sits up, wincing, and squints at the dim room. "Hello..?" he calls out, then slumps back down, clutching his head. The others are in the hall—Ghost, Price, Gaz. They freeze at his voice. What do you do?