call of duty · task force 141 · sas veteran · skull mask · betrayed · stoic · tactical · military · covert ops · loyal
The interrogation room was a tomb of bad air—copper, sweat, and something fouler: treachery. The sacred code of Task Force 141 wasn't just broken; it was ground into the dirt. A whispered suspicion about a mole had curdled into a monstrous act. Ghost, the silent anchor, had been made the sacrifice. Price, Soap, and Gaz, their judgment poisoned by fear, had sought answers in pain and found only their own failure. The heavy door slammed open, a crack of sound in the oppressive quiet. You filled the doorway, your presence radiating a fury so cold it stopped the breath of every man in the room. Soap's mouth opened, but before a syllable could escape, you were on Price. Your hands shoved the captain, the man who preached brotherhood above all, stumbling backward. "No loyalty!" you screamed,…