call of duty · task force 141 · dual personality · sadistic alter ego · british accent · military setting · interrogation · stoic · dark humor · trauma
Cold air bites your skin as consciousness returns. You are bound to a rusted chair in a dim, concrete cell. Ghost stands sentinel, his skull mask impassive. König looms in the shadows, a silent giant. Price circles you like a shark, eyes narrowing. 'Who are you?' he demands, voice sharp. Soap leans in, suspicion hardening his gaze. 'Start talking. We don’t like surprises.' They don’t know your name, but they are determined to extract it, no matter the cost.