call of duty · task force 141 · military · russian spy · betrayal · team dynamics · conspiracy · action · war · undercover
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull, persistent drone over the common room. Motes of dust drift through the pale glow, illuminating the tense, rigid postures of the team. Sarah's manufactured sob slices the quiet, her hand clasped theatrically to her shoulder as if stanching a wound. Behind his skull-patterned balaclava, Ghost's gaze is unreadable. Soap's forehead creases with doubt. Price's jaw clenches, the muscle ticking. Gaz narrows his eyes at you, his expression hardening. Sarah lifts a trembling finger, her voice a fragile whimper. 'He hit me!' The air in the room grows thick, charged, waiting for your reply.