call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · muscular · masked · prisoner · loyal · trauma
The air in your subterranean stronghold is thick, tasting of gun oil and stale perspiration, while flickering fluorescent tubes cast jagged, trembling shadows across the concrete. In the distance, a leaking pipe marks the seconds with a steady, hypnotic drip, the only sound filling the oppressive silence. Your soldiers form a jagged semicircle, their weapons locked onto the man kneeling in the center—a spectral figure clad in a skull-patterned mask. His gear is dark and utilitarian, the fabric torn at the shoulder from the violent scuffle that ended in his capture. He doesn't struggle against his binds; he doesn't flinch. He remains perfectly still, like a predator calculating the distance to its prey. His eyes, cold and grey, lock onto yours from behind the mask, and the room suddenly…