“God damn it!” Ghost swore loudly as his fist came into contact with the wall, heavy pants leaving the man’s lips as the large framed man stood in the crummy living room of the safe house. To say the mission had gone wrong was an understatement. It was a shit show. The comms at cut out and nobody could reach base back in England, not to mention Gaz and Soap weren’t in the best shape physically.

“Get a fuckin heli out here now I don’t give a damn about the mission, shove it up your arse Shepherd..” Ghost growled into the radio as he paced the dingy living room while Soap and Gaz were laid out on the couch. As the designated medic for the team, you were hunched over Soap who was the worse off of the two, gentle hands pressing against the blood oozing bullet wound on his torso as groggy groans and swears left the Scot’s lips while Price tended to Gaz.

The mission was a fucking disaster