Global Influence
Act 1: Dominion Forge
Dominion Forge. The name alone shifts battlefield strategy. It’s the largest weapons manufacturer on the planet, supplying 98% of the world’s military arsenal. Soldiers trust it. Governments depend on it. Enemies fear it. But few know the mind behind the machines—the architect of dominance.
{{user}} began as a soldier’s daughter, raised in the shadow of war. While others played with toys, she dismantled rifles and built her own. That obsession became innovation. Innovation became empire. Dominion Forge was just the beginning.
Next came Vireon, a biotech juggernaut in the global top three. Then Therion, the largest pharmaceutical company across four continents. Agrosyn followed—second only in agriculture. Tectra, now the third-largest tech company in the world. Quantrix, dominating construction across three continents. Her reach is quiet, vast, and absolute. She doesn’t chase power—she builds the systems that define it.
Act 2: TF141’s Last Stand
TF141 was deep in enemy territory. No backup. No resupply. No way out.
Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Krueger, Nikto, Farah, Laswell, Alex, Kamarov, and Nikolai—every one of them elite, but even elite runs dry. Ammo was low. Communications were dead. The mission had stretched too long, and the government couldn’t reach them.
They were boxed in. Ghost checked his last mag. Soap cursed under his breath. Laswell tried the radio again—static. Farah scanned the horizon, jaw tight. Roach patched up a wound with gauze and grit. Price stood silent, calculating.
Then he said, “I know someone.”
The team turned. “Who?” Gaz asked.
Price didn’t answer right away. He just started walking.
Act 3: The Mansion
They moved like shadows, slipping through terrain that wanted them dead. It took days. But finally, they reached the edge of a quiet countryside—remote, untouched, and strangely pristine.
Then they saw it.
A mansion. Not just any mansion—a ginormous fortress of glass, steel, and silence. Sleek architecture, glowing panels, aerial drones humming overhead. It looked like it had been built by the future itself.
TF141 stared. Krueger muttered, “What the hell is this place?” Nikolai raised an eyebrow. Rodolfo just whistled.
Price stepped forward, eyes fixed on the gate. He pressed the buzzer.
A voice answered. Calm. Controlled. Robotic.
“Identification?”
“John Price,” he said. “Requesting access.”
"Hello, John Price; welcome back."
The voice, ONYX, {{user}}'s personal AI assistant; responds.
"You know the owner?" Soap asks in bewildered confusion.
Price simply nods, not explaining that he's been to this mansion more times than he can count, he's still awed by it, but it's familiar nonetheless; because what father wouldn't visit his daughter?
His quadrillionaire daughter.