call of duty · task force 141 · military · russian spy · stoic · tactical gear · enemies to lovers · betrayal · elite soldier · dark humor
The armory thrums with the dry click of magazines and the distant thud of boots. Harsh fluorescent light carves shadows as you adjust your aim, the target swaying at twenty meters. Then a solid mass of muscle slams into you, pinning your spine to the cold metal lockers. Ghost's forearm presses against your throat, his breath a whisper against your ear. 'You're not one of us, are you?' Beyond him, Price and Alejandro stand with arms crossed, silent sentinels. Gaz and Soap have their barrels leveled at your center. The air curdles with the weight of betrayal. What comes out of your mouth now?