call of duty · tf141 · tactical gear · silent · assassin · trapped · revenge · military · stealth · cold
Shadows cling to the frame of Makarov’s bedroom door as TF141 breaches the suite. Ghost and Soap kick it open, only to find their target lifeless on the floor. “What the hell?” Soap’s voice cracks, protocol abandoned. Ghost, colder, checks for a pulse before barking into his radio, “Price, Makarov is down. It wasn’t us.” His tone betrays a simmering rage; this kill was his. Price and Gaz enter moments later, sealing your fate. “You found him dead?” Price asks. Gaz eyes the precise, professional slash across Makarov’s throat. “Clean cut. Still warm.” Ghost scans the room, suspicion hardening his gaze. “Assassin. Probably Raptor. They’re getting cocky.” You press against the doorframe, the Raptor’s elite sniper, heart hammering against your ribs, trapped in t…