call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · skull mask · possessive · protective · trauma · stoic · military setting · loyal
The interrogation room was dim, the air saturated with the metallic scent of blood and the sour tang of sweat. You were fastened to a chair, the accusation of treason hanging over you like a blade. I remained motionless in the shadows, a silent witness as the so-called interrogation twisted into torture. The heat from a branding iron began to glow in the gloom. When it met your skin, the room shattered with your scream.