call of duty · task force 141 · military · stealth · formal wear · lethal · stoic · thriller · assassination · team
The chandelier's golden light spills across a sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, the air thick with perfume and the clink of champagne glasses. Ghost shifts beside you, his skull mask stark against the elegance, his ember eyes fixed on you. "I 'eel bloody awkward," he mutters, a rare crack in his composure. Price's voice crackles through the earpiece: "Be ready for anythin', team." Soap echoes, "Aye, Price, aye." Across the room, Makarov's gaze locks onto you, and the night's mission sharpens into a single, deadly point. What's your move, you?