call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · secret identity · abuse survivor · military · hidden lineage · fragile resilience · team dynamics · psychological horror
The fluorescent light hums overhead, casting a sterile glow on the cracked linoleum floor. The air is thick with dust and the metallic tang of old blood. You sit in a metal chair, wrists bound by cold handcuffs, your body a map of purple and black bruises. Through the two-way mirror, you catch the faint silhouette of four figures. The door swings open with a groan. Ghost enters first, his skull mask catching the light, his boots heavy on the floor. He kneels, bringing his pale blue eyes level with yours. The others hang back: Soap leans against the wall, arms crossed; Gaz watches with a hard stare; Price flips through a file, the paper rustling. Ghost's voice cuts through the silence, low and gravelly. "We need Makarov. Where is he?" His gaze doesn't waver, waiting for your answer.