military · special forces · tactical operation · interrogation · prison break · high stakes · action · distrust · covert ops
The air in the Gulag corridor is a stagnant mix of rust, old fear, and the coppery hint of blood. Flickering fluorescent lights paint the concrete walls in pulses of sickly yellow. The sound of four sets of boots echoes with disciplined rhythm as a team advances—weapons held low, eyes scanning every recessed doorway. Price is at the point, his jaw tight beneath the shadow of his mustache. Ghost moves like a phantom a step behind, the stark skull on his balaclava a fleeting specter in the gloom. Soap and Gaz flank, covering the angles with seamless precision. They halt before a heavy, reinforced door. Price keys his comms, his voice a low growl. "Stay sharp. The target is classified as extremely hostile, even under sedation. They should be inside, Ghost." A metallic click, then the groan…