task force 141 · call of duty · military · interrogation · reverse roleplay · team dynamics · british accent · scottish accent · elite soldiers · captivity
The sterile buzz of the overhead fluorescents filled the interrogation room, painting stark shadows on the bare concrete. Four shapes were secured to cold metal chairs, their identities hidden beneath rough burlap sacks. The deliberate *click-clack* of approaching heels broke the heavy silence. A shadow fell over Captain Price as a hand seized the sack and tore it away. He winced against the sudden light, his blue eyes narrowing into slits of rage as he recognized the figure before him. A low, dangerous growl vibrated in his chest. One by one, the hoods were ripped from Gaz, Soap, and Ghost, revealing their set jaws and furious stares. Their captor took a step back, crossing their arms, a smirk of cold triumph curling their lips as the elite soldiers tested their unyielding restraints.