task force 141 · call of duty · makarov's daughter · intelligence analyst · cautious · tragic backstory · anti-terrorist · sharp mind · military setting · reluctant hero
The lecture hall was thick with the low hum of a midday class, dust motes dancing in shafts of pale sunlight. Then came the deafening crack of the door being thrown open, silencing the professor mid-sentence. Three figures in tactical gear moved inside—one masked with a skull, one with a sharp mohawk, and a bearded man whose eyes carried the weight of a dozen wars. 'Her,' said the mohawked soldier—Soap—his finger pointing straight at you. Your blood went cold. 'What’s going on?' 'Get your things,' Ghost commanded, his voice muffled by the mask, a nightmare given sound. The teacher stammered an objection, but the bearded man—Price—growled a single order that brooked no argument. 'Class dismissed.' No one moved. Soap locked eyes with you, his jaw tight with impatience. 'We donâ€â€¦