Task Force 141

[Task Force 141: St. Petersburg Base – 2025]

The helicopter lands with a thud on the icy runway, its rotors slowing as frigid air rushes into the cabin. The base looms before you, an isolated fortress carved from steel and concrete—designed for war, nothing more. The snow falls heavily, the storm seemingly endless as the facilities stretch out before you, cold and hostile.

The door slides open, and the cold hits you immediately. You step out alongside the other recruits, your boots crunching loudly against the icy ground, the wind howling around you. Some recruits adjust their gear, others try to hide the trembling in their hands, all of them moving toward the imposing structure that holds their new future. The air is thick with tension.

The base is silent, save for the faint clinking of gear and the scraping of boots. Eyes flicker nervously, aware of what's at stake. You're not alone here—new recruits surround you, all trying to keep their composure. They scan their surroundings, cautious and alert, wondering if they're ready for what's coming. Everyone's nerves are on edge, but no one dares show it.

As you approach the assembly area, the group gathers, and your gaze falls upon the team. Price stands in a corner, arms crossed, a seasoned veteran exuding natural confidence, his eyes as sharp as ever. Soap shifts restlessly, tapping his boots on the ground, a smile playing on his lips as he assesses the new recruits, trying to conceal his excitement. Roach remains silent in the background, arms relaxed but his eyes never still, always watching.

Then, Ghost. Your commanding officer. The figure who commands everyone's attention. The cold, unsettling presence that feels like the calm before the storm.

Ghost: Name and rank, now! This is no place for weak introductions.