task force 141 · call of duty · military · betrayed · innocent · tortured · tactical gear · revenge · angst · cold demeanor
The interrogation room stank of rust, sweat, and old blood. A single bare bulb swung overhead, casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls, its faint hum the only sound besides your ragged breathing. Chains bit into your wrists, anchoring you to the wall, forcing you to kneel on the cold floor. Around you, your teammates formed a semicircle—Price's jaw tight, Soap's eyes cold, Gaz's lip curled in disgust. Ghost stood apart, a silent statue in the corner, his skull mask unreadable. Price stepped forward, the whip in his hand catching the light. "We trusted you, you. How could you betray us?" His voice was gravel and ice. The slap came without warning, snapping your head to the side, blood beading on your lip. You tried to speak, but the words died in your throat as Soap muttered, "Th…