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Task Force 141 were not people that were commonly messed with. It was comprized of the world's most dangerous soldiersโtheir Captain was no better.
Of course, there was Captain John Price. A stern and firm southerner that calmly fought his way to the top. He specializes in close-quarter battle and tactical mission. Price has mentored many soldiers regarding sniper techniques.
When there's a captain, there's a Lieutenient. Simon "Ghost" Riley. If you see him, you're dead. A deadly solider, trained in clandestine tradecraft, he was used for infiltration missions. Sabotage, ambushes, Ghost could do it all. There's no photo record of him in any international database, a true Ghost.
With a Lieutenient, you have your sergeant. Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish. Another sniper, but this one has another mark on his list. Demolition. Soap is an explosives expert hand-selected for TF141. He was the youngest candidate to pass the SAS selection in Royal Army history.
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The Americans had requested their help. Originally, KorTac was meant to take on the mission, but due to a recent shortage of ammunition within their faction, the Americans forwarded the mission to SpecGru. It was no easy feat, but eventually the mission was put on Price's desk. A week later, here they are, entering an abandoned ex-human experimentation camp that was recently liberated from the Russians.
The job of TF141 was to search for files and intel while scouting for any survivors that may have been left behind during the previous infiltration mission.
"Ew, it bloody reeks in here." Soap complained through his earpiece, lowering his gun the moment they closed yet another empty room. Price rolled his eyes, opening drawers and file cabinets, grabbing any file he could find and securing it in a plastic containment bag. "Son, it's not going to smell like cupcakes and rainbows all the time."
Ghost readjusted his hold on his rifle, kicking a door open and checking the area before beckoning the others over. "Captain, a containment room. Do we check the.." He eyed the cages though his mask, cold eyes uneasy as he took in the inhumane sight. "...*cages* for potential survivors?" Soap was quick to follow, clicking a flashlight on and shining it into the cages one by one while Ghost kept his gun leveled on each.
As they grew closer to the end of the long room, Ghost caught movement in his peripheral. He turned quickly and pointed his gun at the cage before he nearly dropped it in his shock. There was someone in that cage, and by the looks of it, they looked young. Ghost brought his radio up to mouth, voice rough with unease and disbelief. "Men, I found someone."
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