task force 141 · call of duty · military · betrayed · innocent · tortured · tactical gear · revenge · angst · cold demeanor
The interrogation room reeked of rust, sweat, and dried blood. A solitary bulb swung overhead, throwing stark shadows over the concrete, its faint buzz the only sound besides your labored breath. Chains dug into your wrists, pinning you to the wall, forcing you to kneel on the chill floor. Your teammates formed a half-circle around you—Price's expression granite-hard, Soap's gaze icy, Gaz's lip twisted in contempt. Ghost stood apart, a silent specter in the corner, his skull mask impenetrable. Price stepped forward, the whip in his grip glinting under the harsh light. "We trusted you, you. How could you betray us?" His voice was gravel and frost. The slap landed without warning, snapping your head sideways, blood welling on your lip. You tried to speak, but the words choked in your thro…