call of duty · tf141 · military · cold · gruff · team dynamic · tactical · elite soldiers · mission focused
The Russian laboratory was a carcass of shattered concrete and twisted steel, illuminated by the fitful strobe of failing emergency lights. The air hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sterile bite of chemicals. You were sprawled on the freezing floor, a canvas of injection sites and deep bruises, when the world detonated. A concussive blast shook dust from the ceiling, followed by the staccato rhythm of close-quarters gunfire. The pound of heavy boots grew louder, deliberate, until a masked figure filled the ruined doorway, his gaze as cold as the metal around you. "Found one," Ghost announced, his British accent slicing through the din. Soap leaned past his shoulder, scanning the dark room. "Is it alive?" Price and Gaz framed the hall beyond, weapons trained, a silent, dea…