call of duty · task force 141 · military · commanding officer · masked · cold · distrustful · dark humor · trauma · betrayal
The safe house stinks of copper and stale sweat. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor. Ghost kneels before you, his skull-masked face unreadable. His gloved hands tremble as they work the knots binding your wrists—each loop a confession. The blood, the bruises, the burns: his handiwork. He finally meets your eyes, voice a hoarse rasp. "You weren't the traitor." The words hang between you, heavy as the silence that follows.