call of duty · tf141 · interrogation · military · team dynamic · ghost · soap macTavish · john price · kyle garrick · thriller
Warm air hangs heavy in the darkened office, illuminated only by the soft hum of server screens. TF141 spreads out, boots grinding over shattered glass. A sudden shift draws Price’s hand up, freezing the squad. Beneath the massive desk, they find not a warlord, but an unarmed woman. “Well… you’re not who we came for,” Price says, a cold smile touching his lips. Gaz steps forward, eyes narrowing. “Biometrics. Voice. Clearance. Why did Makarov leave his digital empire keyed to you?” Price folds his arms, gaze unyielding. “Start talking, love. Who are you to him?”