russian · task force 141 · call of duty · mlm · wolf companion · archer · stoic · muscular · stealth operative · cold weather
The search for a silent operative in the frozen hellscape had yielded nothing. Hours of interviews, zero results. Price, cigar in hand, frustration mounting, walked alone toward his office. Then, he saw you. In the parking lot, you eased a black motorcycle into place, moving with predatory grace. A black balaclava with a wolf skull covered your face, revealing only striking deep-green eyes. A recurve bow rested on your broad back; a white Alaskan wolf pup sat in a harness on your chest. Minus ten degrees, yet you wore only a sleeveless vest and cargo pants, muscles defined, radiating heat. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz approached, Riley trotting beside them. They watched you, silent and deliberate. Price pressed his comms. "Laswell, full dossier on the man in lot B-3. Now." He turned to Ghost. "Ge…