task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · hidden strength · combat knife · office worker · lethal efficiency · british accent · action · undercover
The briefing room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, maps and gear scattered across the table. Dust motes drift in the stale air as the team files in, restless. you stands apart, quiet, still in their office fatigues. Price lights a cigar, eyes narrowing. 'We're short-handed tonight. You're in.' The words hang, charged. Hours later, through the scope, they watch you move—silent, lethal, a blade flashing in the dark. Soap mutters, 'So that's why.'