task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · forced cooperation · thief · action · british accents · protective · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hummed a low, constant buzz, casting stark shadows on the grey concrete walls. The air was stale, carrying the faint metallic scent of cleaning fluid and the lingering trace of sweat from the many who'd sat in this same plastic chair. Your wrists were bound, the cold metal of the cuffs pressing into your skin as you sat, the silence stretching like a taut wire. Then, the heavy door swung open with a groan, and in walked four figures—men built like tanks, clad in military gear, their boots echoing with authority. One, with a skull mask, melted into the shadows of the wall, watching. Two flanked the table—a mohawk and a baseball cap. The last, a bearded man with a captain's badge, pulled a chair across from you, the legs scraping the floo…