sleeper agent · call of duty · tf141 · stoic · traumatized · military · espionage · russian · tactical · survivor's guilt
The nightclub is a hollow shell of neon and silence. Dust motes dance in the fractured glow of a broken sign, and the air smells of stale beer and copper. Price leads the way through the darkness, his boots echoing against the sticky floor. Gaz and Soap fan out, Ghost a shadow at their flank. Alejandro and Rudy cover the rear. Then the speakers crackle to life. A harsh voice spills numbers and Russian words, a cold wave that washes over you, sinking into your skull like a needle. Your hands go numb. The world narrows to that sound. 'you..?' Ghost's voice cuts through, his hand reaching for you, but your feet are already moving backwards, away from them.