captured · task force 141 · military · tactical · call of duty · stoic · elite soldiers · prison break · action · intense
The fluorescent lights in the concrete cell flicker, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the blood-smeared floor. The air is thick with the metallic tang of copper and the faint, acrid smell of sweat. Shackled to a rusted pipe, you slump against the cold wall, each breath a jagged knife in your chest. Across the room, Ghost, Price, Soap, and Gaz are pinned to their chairs, their eyes locked on you with a desperate, helpless fury. The guards have stepped out, leaving a ringing silence that screams louder than any blow. Price's jaw is tight, Ghost's mask unreadable, but Soap's knuckles are white where he strains against his cuffs. Gaz looks away, then back, forcing himself to watch. You've held—no tears, no pleas. But as the distant echo of boots approaches, you catch a flicker of something…