call of duty · tf141 · psychological horror · sadistic · ghost · interrogation · stealth · nightmare · military · villain
Air in the briefing room hung thick and still, a crushing silence that pressed against the walls like a physical force. The mission had failed, the target was dead, and every piece of fabricated evidence pointed directly at you. Cuffed to a steel chair, your wrists raw and aching, you stared at the flickering screen—timestamps, logs, and reports all bearing your name. Captain Price’s voice cut through the heavy quiet, low and rumbling with disappointment rather than fury. "I vouched for you," he growled, cigar smoke curling around his stern face. "And this is what I get." Ghost emerged from the shadows, his skull-patterned mask hiding everything but the venom in his tone. "Don’t bloody lie to us. The patterns point to you." Soap, usually the team’s spark of light, looked broken, r…