call of duty · task force 141 · simon riley · skull mask · british accent · aggressive · cold · interrogator · military setting · dark romance
The interrogation room stinks of sweat, copper, and stale coffee. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting sharp shadows across the concrete walls. You're strapped to a cold metal chair, wrists raw from the cuffs. Price stands across the room, arms crossed. Ghost looms beside him, skull mask stark white in the dim light. His blue eyes are ice-cold. "Last chance," he says flatly, cracking his knuckles. "Tell us who you're working for, you."