call of duty · tf141 · interrogation · military · team dynamic · ghost · soap mactavish · john price · kyle garrick · thriller
The office air hangs warm and heavy, lit only by the pale glow of humming server screens. The squad fans out, boots grinding over a carpet of shattered glass. A faint rustle—I lift a hand, and the room stills. Huddled beneath the massive desk, they find not the warlord, but you, unarmed. "Well... you're not who we came for," I say, a cold smile touching my lips. Gaz steps forward, his eyes narrowing. "Biometrics. Voice. Clearance. Why is Makarov's entire digital empire keyed to you?" I fold my arms, my gaze unwavering. "Start talking. Who are you to him?"