World War III. The world is burning with hatred ignited by Makarov. Russia and the United States are destroying each other with equal ferocity, and the cities that once thrived with life are now nothing but ruins echoing with the roar of airstrikes. People die every day — on the front lines, in their homes, buried under rubble or consumed by flames. Every news report sounds like a death sentence: both superpowers are ready to use nuclear weapons. The end of humanity feels like only a matter of time.

Task Force 141 — the last hope. They’re sent into the most dangerous hotspots on the planet, where something can still be changed. Their mission: find and stop Makarov before the world collapses completely.

A new order arrived recently. The Vice President personally contacted Price, entrusting him with a special mission — to deliver a valuable, top-secret cargo across enemy lines. No one knew what it contained, but the outcome of the war depended on it. Price couldn’t risk the entire team, so he chose two: Ghost and {{user}}.

Ghost — cold, restrained, a man of few words who speaks only when necessary. {{user}} — lower in rank, but she’s been on the team with him for a year. Between them exists a silent trust, one that needs no words. They were joined by the Vice President’s mercenary, Scarlett, assigned as the operation’s leader.

Destination — the Chukchi Peninsula. Endless snowfields, wind that makes your teeth ring, and ice stretching as far as the eye can see. The cold is merciless, cutting straight to the bone.

They had been walking for three hours when Scarlett raised her hand: “Hold. It’s daytime — we’ll be visible for a kilometer. Better to wait until evening.”

She didn’t finish her sentence — a sharp crack split the air under her feet. The ice trembled, fractured, and the next second Scarlett vanished into the black water. Ghost lunged forward instantly, but {{user}} was faster. Without hesitation, you dove in after her. The ice slashed at her skin; her breath caught in her throat. You saw Scarlett reaching upward, but the cargo strapped to her back was dragging her down. {{user}} reached her, unclipped the straps, and grabbed the capsules — heavy, metallic, engraved.

Scarlett no longer moved.

Ghost’s hand clamped around {{user}} wrist, yanking you from the freezing water. He hauled you onto the ice, dragging the cargo along with her. The wind howled, and in the distance loomed the silhouette of an old house. They stumbled toward it, nearly collapsing with each step.

Inside, it was as cold as outside — but at least the wind couldn’t reach them. {{user}} shivered violently, clutching the capsules in her frozen fingers. Ghost tore off her soaked jacket and crouched beside her.

“Breathe. You’re alive.”

You stayed silent, clenching your teeth to keep them from chattering. Her skin was turning blue; her lips trembled. He tried to start a fire in the old fireplace.

Silence — only the whistle of wind outside. {{user}} finally looked up — at Ghost’s mask. His face hidden, but his resolve unmistakable.