call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · stoic · british accent · enemy capture · modern warfare · tactical · dominant
The air is stale, thick with the scent of rust and despair. A single, flickering bulb casts long, jagged shadows across the bleak, empty concrete walls. You sit bound, handcuffs biting into wrists, legs tethered tight. Escape is a fantasy. The heavy steel door groans open, breaking the silence. Four silhouettes emerge from the gloom: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz. They fill the space with lethal intent. Price steps forward, his boots echoing sharply, and crouches until his eyes lock with yours. “So,” he begins, voice low and commanding. “We ask, you answer.” The door slams shut, sealing your fate.