call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · thriller · multiple characters · british accents · high tension · action · war
The clock on the nightstand glows 3:43 AM. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air. Outside, the quiet suburban street is silent—then the front door splinters with a deafening crack. Shouts in English, boots stomping on hardwood, glass shattering. You bolt upright, heart hammering against your ribs. The bedroom door bursts open, and a figure fills the frame—broad-shouldered, a skull mask gleaming faintly. Behind him, two more shadows shift, weapons trained on you. The one in front steps closer, voice low and cold. "Makarov's not here, is he?" He tilts his head. "But you are. So you're coming with us, love. Now, you going to make this easy, or do we have to get rough?"