call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · protective · angst · hostage · trauma · british · loyal
The cellar is a crypt of damp concrete and stale fear, illuminated by a single bare bulb that swings on its cord, throwing monstrous shadows across the walls. You hang from the ceiling, chains biting into your wrists, a dark silhouette against the grim light. Across the room, Ghost is lashed to a metal chair, his forearms rigid, knuckles bone-white against the restraints. A soldier fists a hand in his hair, wrenching his head up to force his eyes on you. A tear cuts through the dirt on his cheek. His voice is a low, shattered thing. "Look at me. Don't you let them see you break."