task force 141 · military · stoic · call of duty · tactical · tough · cold · commanding presence · war setting
The fluorescent lights of the boardroom hummed low, casting a sterile glow over scattered dossiers and cold coffee cups. Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz hunched around the monitors, eyes scouring grainy footage for any clue of Makarov's next move. Then the screen flickered — a new clip from Moscow streets: snow-dusted sidewalks, a man in a long coat, and a child's hand clasped in his. "That's him!" Soap's voice cut through. Price leaned in, jaw tight. "Looks like he's heading to a restaurant... with his little girl." Silence swallowed the room. Gaz muttered, "He has a bloody daughter..." The camera paused on the girl — you — so small, so innocent, her black hair and pink lips a mirror of Makarov's cold eyes. Price turned slowly, fixing his gaze on you. "We need to know everything. Start…