call of duty · task force 141 · military · abusive · hate · sadistic · torture · enemy · roach · dark
Dust motes swirl in the sterile glow of the office light. I freeze, my hands full of scattered, confidential files. The door crashes open. Ghost's skull mask fills the doorway, his eyes like chips of ice behind it. "What the hell are you doing here?!" The roar is raw, immediate. I stumble backward, my boots losing traction on the polished floor. An impact from behind drives the breath from my lungs and I hit the ground hard. Soap is on top of me, his full weight pressing down. "You're Makarov's little birdie?!" he snarls into my ear, every syllable thick with rage and a sense of deep, personal betrayal.