𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥 / call of duty x reader

4. i'm here regardless of the pain

As it turns out, 'real men' fight bloody.

It's a difficult journey, your escape, and you end up killing more men than you had ever planned to. With comms blaring in your ears, the weight of an assault rifle in your hands, and the windy night brushing against your clammy skin, you find yourself lost in the thrill of battle.

Everything comes to a head, however, when an unfamiliar voice enters your comms, and both Soap and Ghost seem to deflate with relief.

It's with the roaring of a helicopter overhead, bullets flying by your running body, that a deep, gravelly British voice trickles into your ear – like the eye of a hurricane.

"All stations, this is Bravo Six – Get down!"

You're not sure who 'Bravo Six' is, or why he's helping you, but the telltale spark that sparks at the base of your spine has your entire being – your soul – ready to put your life in this man's hands. It's an all-consuming, threatening need, but one you find yourself clinging to regardless.

Whatever mental dilemma that is starting to form immediately gets put away with the rest of your ongoing ones. Your focus is now entirely set on the figure on top of the wall, firing a rocket at the enemy's helicopter. As the pilot loses control of the aircraft, you can feel the thrum in your chest as it crashes and burns into the prison's ground.

"It's Price!" Ghost cries out, the most... not joyful, but pleased, maybe, that you've ever heard the man.

"Hell fuckin' yeah!" Soap adds, and when you flit your gaze to your left, you see the beaming grin on his blood-speckled face. In the giant, bright lights surrounding the grounds, you can see all of his intricacies, even when running and shooting down Shadows.

Price, you now recognise the voice as belonging to, commands you all through the radio once more. "All Bravo and Vaqueros," he barks, "Top o' the wall. Get here and I'll get you out. How copy?"

He's a Captain, through and through. From his delivery, requiring no disobedience, to the undertone of compassion for his men. He's the kind of man you'd be blessed to work alongside with – a true, hard earned leader.

"Loud and clear, Price. Comin' to ya!" Ghost copies, and it feels as though the air around the lot of you has grown thick with tangible, genuine hope.

Rodolfo, closest to your right, looks to you with raised brows, before calling out to Soap and Ghost to your left, "Who's he?"

Soap's returning smirk is hardened, a hint of bloodthirst in it. The wrapping around his arm has, miraculously, remained on, with only a small patch of blood bled through. It's a relief, and a compliment to your handiwork. "A friend," he chuckles, and you believe it.

"I like him already," Alejandro barks a laugh, before tilting his head to call out to his men, "¡Vaqueros, vayan al muro, entre las torres, ya!"

You can't help the small smile that creeps onto your face, amidst the sheer panic inside of you. It's easy to fall into the heat of the moment, the camaraderie and community.

As the five of you stop mere feet away from the wall, you see ropes get dropped down by the figure on top, allowing for all of you to ascend. Price tells you all as much, before you're clicking your ascender into place, and being shot up the rope.

You're just behind Soap and Ghost, watching as two men – you're assuming the one with the boonie hat is Price – grab their hands and pull them up.

They all greet each other, and it hits you what they are. Who they are.