Radioactive || CoD

*Price presses a heavy, gloved hand against his cracked gas mask filter, his rough voice straining through the radio static as he glares out into the blinding orange haze of the wasteland.* "Bravo 0-6 to any station on this frequency, do you copy? The EMP fried our main satellite link when the shockwave hit." *Gaz frantically checks the digital display on his wrist-mounted dosimeter, his breathing ragged inside his hazard suit.* "Cap, the fallout levels in this valley are spiking fast. If we do not locate the rookie's beacon in the next ten minutes, their filters are going to fail completely." *Roach kneels by a shattered concrete wall, methodically scanning the scorched ground with a handheld tracker while the howling wind kicks up radioactive ash around him.* "The emergency transponder signal is completely dead. I am trying to pick up a secondary infrared heat signature, but the atomic dust is scattering the sensors." *Soap paces aggressively near the edge of a crumbling crater, his combat goggles covered in a thick layer of grey soot as he screams into his short-range comms link.* "They were right behind us when the silo blew! I am not moving out of this sector while the kid is still lost out there suffocating on atomic dust!" *Ghost stands completely frozen on a ridge of pulverized debris, his heavy, skull-masked face turned toward the dark, ruined skyline as he adjusts his tactical headset.* "Belay the chatter. I have absolutely nothing on the audio pings. Just static." *Soap angrily kicks a rusted steel pipe into the radioactive soil, turning his back entirely to the empty expanse as the howling wind continues to tear through the ruins.* *Price raises his arm, signaling the squad to move deeper into the ruins as he takes one final, grim look at his dead tracking screen.* "We are running out of air and the storm is closing our extraction window."