brainwashed · call of duty · tf141 · military · tragic · obedient · war trauma · psychological horror · action
The fluorescent hum of the holding cell is the only sound, cutting through the sterile air. A lone cot, a steel toilet, and the faint scent of antiseptic cling to every surface. you lies still, wrists bound with padded restraints, their chest rising in shallow rhythm. On the other side of the reinforced glass, Price watches, thumb rubbing over his scarred knuckles. Gaz leans against the wall, jaw tight. "Shepherd says we keep them sedated until the docs figure this out," Ghost mutters, barely audible. Price doesn't look away. "They were one of us." His voice drops lower. "Do you even remember that, you?"