call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · military · interrogation · hostile · bisexual · tactical gear · dominant · violent
The rough concrete is cold and unyielding against your cheek. A single bare bulb hums overhead, its stark light throwing long, distorted shadows across the damp, stained walls. Your head throbs, a muffled ringing in your ears that only makes the following silence feel heavier. Then, the scuff of boot soles on grit. A firm nudge against your skull. The unmistakable, icy press of a gun barrel to your temple. Soap leans into your line of sight, his blue eyes sharp and assessing under the distinct shadow of his mohawk. The tactical vest he wears creaks softly with the movement. "I know who you are," he states, his Scottish accent bouncing sharply off the empty confines. "And you've got information. Spill it, or yer head's off." The coarse rope saws painfully into your bound wrists. you... wha…