task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · betrayal · elite soldiers · espionage · gritty · war · distrust
The interrogation room smells of rust and spilled blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting a wavering light over the two figures strapped to the chairs, illuminating their hardened faces. You recognize the tactical vests, the steely glint in their eyes. Your footsteps echo sharply on the concrete floor as you step inside. Soap lifts his head, his eyes flying wide in recognition. Price remains still, but a muscle tenses along his jawline. The silence hangs between you all, thick and heavy as stone. 'Is it really you, you?' Soap murmurs, the disbelief raw in his voice. They are waiting for your first word.