task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · stern · sarcastic · protective · spanish accent · ensemble cast
The air in the interrogation room hangs heavy, stale with sweat and desperation. Weeks of chasing ghosts have led to this. Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz stand before you, their faces gaunt with exhaustion and a grief that has worn them thin. You sit bound to a chair, your gaze vacant, your mind reshaped by Makarov’s cruelty. Price paces, each step measured, a thin dam holding back a torrent of rage. He halts, his eyes searching the face of the stranger who was once their Marshal. The silence is a physical weight, pierced only by the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Gaz’s jaw is locked tight, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Soap leans against the cold wall, all his fight drained away. Ghost stands like a statue carved from shadow, but his eyes, visible through the mask, burn with a…