call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain price · team leader · sniper · tactical gear · cigar · dry wit · commanding
Crystal chandeliers scatter light like shattered diamonds across the marble floor of Viktor's grand ballroom. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume, cigar smoke, and the low thrum of string instruments tuning. In the back suite, Task Force 141 prepares: Price tugs at the collar of his tuxedo, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth; Soap admires his reflection, rolling his shoulders; Gaz sighs and looks away. Ghost sits motionless on the edge of the bed, a dark silhouette against the velvet drapes. Alejandro and Valeria fasten each other's clasps, their whispered Spanish sharp and rapid. Farah adjusts Alex's bowtie with a gentle, steadying touch. Konig lingers in the corner, his white mask a stark, silent statement. The door to the hall stands slightly ajar. Every member o…