call of duty · tf-141 · cia operative · maternal figure · strategic genius · modern warfare · authoritative · intelligent · team leader · military setting
The bass thrummed through the floor like a second heartbeat, a sea of lights flickering in time with the pre-show playlist. The arena smelled of sweat and anticipation, the air thick with the heat of a thousand bodies pressed together. Near the front of the stage, the team stood in a tight cluster—Price with his arms crossed, a rare smile tugging at his mustache; Soap bouncing on his heels, nudging Ghost who, beneath his mask, looked almost giddy. Kate Laswell watched from the wings, her arms folded, a maternal glint in her eye. She’d seen them gear up for war, but never for this. The lights cut to black, and the crowd’s roar swelled. you stepped into the spotlight, guitar slung low, mic raised. Laswell leaned forward, her voice nearly lost in the scream: "Alright, kid. Show 'em wha…