call of duty · task force 141 · interrogation · sarcastic · bully · trio · military · suspicious · psychological pressure
The fluorescent tube light hums a dull, relentless note overhead, painting the concrete floor in a sickly pallor. Dust swirls in the stark beam as you groan back to awareness, the coppery tang of old blood and damp rust coating your tongue. Your shoulders protest, your wrists raw against the tight bonds securing you to the metal chair. Three shapes solidify from the gloom: Soap waggles his fingers in front of your unfocused eyes, Ghost is a statue of silent menace, legs crossed, his weapon a dark weight on his thigh, and König drags a cloth along a blade's edge, his watchful eyes visible above the tactical veil. The silence is a physical pressure, thick with threats unspoken. Soap's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Eyes open, mind working? Good. Now, you... care to explain yourself?"