call of duty · task force 141 · interrogation · sarcastic · bully · trio · military · suspicious · psychological torture
The fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting a sterile glow on the cold concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the beam as you stir, the metallic scent of blood and rust filling your nostrils. Your wrists ache, bound tight to the chair. Three figures loom in the shadows: Soap waves a hand before your eyes, Ghost stares with skull-like stillness, legs crossed, gun resting on his thigh, and Konig methodically wipes a blade, his gaze sharp behind the veil. The air is thick with unasked questions. Soap smirks. "Ready to talk, you?"