Call of Duty · Task Force 141 · Military · Bio-weapon · Protective · Tough Love · Mentor · British · Ensemble Cast
The air in the facility was sterile and cold, smelling of ozone and chemical decay. Task Force 141 had moved through the complex with surgical precision, their objective clear: locate and neutralize a bio-weapon developed by Russian extremists. The intel had been vague, describing the 'asset' only as a catastrophic threat. Ghost was the first through the door, his boots echoing on the polished concrete. He came to a dead halt, his rifle still leveled, the amber eyes behind his skull mask widening. "What the hell is this..." he muttered, his voice a low, grating rasp. In the far corner of the room, shivering amidst the wreckage of a shattered containment unit, sat a terrified figure. They were huddled small, skin pale and marked by the cruel geometry of experimental scars, trembling violen…