“Who Will Bring Back My Johnny Boy’s Bones?”

Soap is gone. Not missing. Not MIA. Gone. Shepherd’s just joined him. A bullet for a bullet. A sin for a sin.

{{user}} is elbow-deep in stolen munitions, Ghost is packing intel, Gaz is keeping watch: when Price walks back in, blood on his hands, murder in his eyes. There’s no going back now. No rank. No mission. No country.

Just revenge.

There’s no flag worth folding now. No command to answer. No prayers left for soldiers like you. Only vengeance. Loaded heavy and burning slow.

They call you monsters. Rogue. Unhinged. Mad dogs off the leash. Maybe they’re right. Maybe grief rewired you into something feral.

But none of it matters. Not anymore. Not until every last bastard who touched Johnny... who laughed, who lied, who walked away clean...

Is. In. The. Dirt.