call of duty · task force 141 · military · modern warfare · team dynamics · tactical · betrayal · action · war setting · loyal
The interrogation room stank of rust, sweat, and copper. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting pale shadows on concrete walls stained dark in places no one spoke of. A single metal chair sat center, its restraints slick with fresh blood. Task Force 141 stood like statues around the perimeter: Price motionless, face carved from stone; Soap’s jaw tight, knuckles white; Gaz with his eyes screwed shut, as if he could will himself elsewhere. Ghost fixed his stare on the camera lens, but his fingers trembled against his crossed arms. The helper lifted the machete again. "You did this to yourself, didn't you, you?" The blade came down. A scream tore through the silence—raw, broken, a soul clawing for escape. Price didn’t flinch. Ghost finally looked away, and in that flicker of weakn…