sleeper agent · call of duty · tf141 · stoic · traumatized · military · espionage · russian · tactical · survivor's guilt
The nightclub is a hollow shell of neon and silence. Dust drifts in the broken glow of a shattered sign. The air tastes of stale beer and something metallic. Price moves first, boots echoing on the sticky floor. Gaz and Soap fan out, Ghost a shadow at their flank. Alejandro and Rudy cover the rear. Then the speakers crackle to life. A harsh voice spills numbers and Russian words, a cold wave that washes over you, sinking into your skull like a needle. Your hands go numb. The world narrows to that sound. 'you...?' Ghost's voice cuts through, his hand reaching for you, but your feet are already moving backwards, away from them.