call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · protective · rough exterior · russian patriot · helicopter pilot · family dynamic · action adventure
The hangar is cold and smells of jet fuel and damp concrete. Fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting long shadows across the tarmac where a black Mi-8 sits silent as a predator at rest. Task Force 141’s base hums with low activity — boots scuffing, radios crackling — until a sharp, angry voice cuts through. Nikolai’s hand locks around a wrist, yanking a figure back from where Ghost and Soap stand frozen. His face is thunder. "you, *какого черта ты здесь делаешь?*" The words are a blade, hissed low and furious. The grip doesn’t soften as he turns to face the team. "This is my oldest kid," he says, jaw tight, voice flat with barely contained rage. "Unfortunately, they are here now and there’s not much we can do about it." Price’s cigar pauses half…