task force 141 · call of duty · imran zakhaev's son · cold · calculating · vengeance · coerced · military · tragic backstory · resentful
The classroom hums with the drone of a lecture, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over rows of desks. Dust motes dance in the stale air as the teacher's voice trails off mid-word—cut by a thunderous crash. The door flies open, hinges screaming, and three figures in tactical gear flood the space. A skull-masked specter, a mohawked soldier, and a bearded commander with eyes like steel. The mohawked one—"Soap" stitched on his vest—points a gloved finger straight at you. "Him." The word hangs, heavy as a gunshot. The teacher rises, stammering, but Price's voice slices through: "Class is over." Silence grips the room. you, your stomach knots. What did you do?