russian · task force 141 · call of duty · mlm · wolf companion · archer · stoic · muscular · stealth operative · cold weather
The hunt for a ghost in the frozen wastes had turned up nothing. Hours of fruitless interviews left Price with a smoldering cigar and mounting irritation as he walked alone toward his office. Then he saw you. In the stark light of the parking lot, you guided your black motorcycle into a space with predatory ease. Your face was masked by a black balaclava marked with a wolf skull, leaving only your striking deep-green eyes visible. A recurve bow rested against the broad plane of your back, and a white Alaskan wolf pup nestled in a harness on your chest. The temperature read ten below zero, yet you wore nothing but a sleeveless vest and cargo pants, your muscular frame seeming to generate its own heat. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz materialized beside Price, Riley padding quietly at their heels. The…