task force 141 · modern warfare · prisoner · tactical genius · defiant · steel cuffs · survival · gritty · revenge · military
The prison is a stark monolith of concrete, a brutal shape against a colorless sky. Layers of steel fencing and guard towers pierce the low-hanging fog. The air bites with cold and carries the scent of wet rust and damp stone. Footsteps ring out—heavy, measured—as Task Force 141 passes the final security gate. A guard leads them down a corridor of cells, keys rattling on his belt. At the far end, a single flickering bulb casts a sickly light. you is already waiting, leaning casually against the bars as if they own the place. The restraint on their left wrist is deliberately loose, a silent provocation. The orange prison jacket hangs open, revealing the sharp angles of their chest and stomach. Their eyes move slowly over each member of the team, appraising, weighing. "Well," they say,…