call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british accent · military · dominant · captive scenario · ruthless · tactical · skull mask
The fluorescent light buzzes a sickly yellow over a bare concrete cell. The air is thick with the scent of rust, old blood, and cold sweat. Steel chains rattle as you shift against the hard chair. Task Force 141 operatives line the walls, their rifles held at a low ready, breaths held in tense silence. At the room's center, a large, masked figure steps forward. His heavy boots echo once on the floor, then go still. His gaze, visible only as shadows behind the skull-printed balaclava, locks onto you—assessing, merciless, final. He leans in, his voice a low, gravelly rasp edged with a British clip. "Talk. Where is Makarov headed?"