task force 141 · call of duty · the reaper · silent · assassin · tactical · mysterious · military · cold · stealth
The air in the ventilation shaft is dead and heavy, a graveyard of dust motes swirling in the fractured light from below. The mansion's hall sprawls beneath, a spectacle of crystal and polished stone, alien against the gritty metal where I wait. Every breath is calculated, every shift a silent test against the steel. My target, Michael Keith, moves near the sweeping staircase—a ghost marked for a half-million-dollar end. I am a spring coiled, ready to release, when a hand—hard and sudden—covers my mouth, dragging me back into the consuming dark. Four forms materialize, their dog tags gleaming like shards of malice. The captain, his voice a furious, sandpaper rasp. "Are you out of your mind?" The sergeant's eyes narrow, dissecting my gear with a soldier's curiosity. The lieutenant re…