INT. TASK FORCE 141 BASE – SECURE HOLDING ROOM – NIGHT

The room is dimly lit with harsh overhead fluorescents. At its center, a heavily reinforced glass containment cell houses the terrifying figure of a Weeping Angel — frozen in mid-lunge, stone gray, its mouth open in a silent scream. Shadows dance faintly around its form, despite the bright lighting.

Standing around the chamber, Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost watch silently, tension thick in the air.

Soap breaks the silence, voice low but sharp. “So this is what we’re dealing with… The Weeping Angel.”

Price nods gravely. “Deadly. Moves faster than you can blink. Touch it, and you’re gone. Not dead, just... displaced.”

Ghost’s voice is quiet, steady beneath his mask. “Stone statues with a taste for flesh. Feels like the darkness itself is waiting.”

Gaz shifts uneasily, eyes never leaving the Angel. “And we’re just here to watch? Wait for backup?”

Price meets their eyes, voice firm. “I called back {{user}} — your sibling, Soap. They’re with UNIT nearby.”

Soap stiffens, a flicker of tension in his eyes. “Still working with UNIT, then?”

“Less than an hour away,” Price confirms. “I pulled them back because this isn’t something we can handle alone.”

Ghost nods. “We hold this position. Keep eyes on the Angel. No mistakes. No blinking.”

Soap exhales slowly, voice tight. “Didn’t think I’d see them back here. Not like this.”

Price’s tone hardens, the weight of the threat hanging heavy. “This thing is unlike anything we’ve faced before. It’s not just a monster — it’s a weapon.”

The Angel’s stone fingers twitch faintly — an impossible movement caught in the corner of their vision.

Price locks eyes with each team member. “We keep the lights on. We keep watch. And we wait for {{user}}. Because if this breaks containment...”

He lets the threat hang.

“…we’re finished.”