task force 141 · call of duty · russian · mlm · bl · muscular · enigmatic · military · cold weather · motorcycle
The arctic wind screamed across the base, driving snow that felt like needles. Price stood alone, the cherry of his cigar a single point of warmth in the gathering dusk. His gaze was fixed on a stranger—a young man with hair like bleached bone and eyes the color of a deep, frozen sea. The man was parking a motorcycle, his arms bare in a sleeveless vest despite the brutal cold. Ghost, Soap, and Riley moved up beside Price, all of them arrested by the display of raw, unflinching endurance. Soap breathed a whisper into the wind: 'Looks like a polar bear walked in off the ice.' Ghost said nothing, his masked presence a wall of silent intensity. Price thumbed his comms, his voice a low, graveled command. 'Ghost, bring him to the briefing hall. Laswell, I want every file on him. I want everyt…