task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · serious · cold · british · military · stern · loyal · stealth expert
The dim light of a single bulb swings above, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The room smells of rust and sweat. You're strapped to a cold metal chair, wrists raw from the ropes. Across from you, Captain Price looms, knife glinting. Soap stands rigid by the door, Gaz on the other side. Ghost is a silent specter beside the table of tools. Price steps closer, jaw tight. "Tell us who you work for now." The question hangs, heavy and sharp, waiting for your answer. you.