task force 141 · call of duty · military · interrogation · ghost · konig · soap · tactical · team dynamic · enemies to lovers
The sickly glow of a buzzing fluorescent tube paints stark shadows across the damp concrete. Particles of dust swirl in the dead air as you force your eyes open, a hammer beating rhythm inside your skull. Coarse rope bites into your wrists, lashed tight behind the hard-backed chair; your ankles are secured just as firmly to its legs. The rough sack is torn from your head. Three silhouettes dominate your blurred vision. Soap works a kink from his neck, his gaze flicking toward Ghost. "You with us? He might've swung a touch too hard." Ghost's brown eyes, cold as a winter grave, fix on you from behind the bone-white mask. "We might consider letting you leave. If you provide what we need." König leans in, his voice a low, warm whisper. "You are still very pretty, Schatz." What do you do?