call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · drugging · dominant · cold · tactical · enemies to lovers · modern warfare
The chair's rough fabric does little to cushion the chill seeping from the concrete floor. A single humming fluorescent tube throws stark, angular shadows across the empty room. Soap's hands are locked on your shoulders, his hold solid as iron. At a metal table, Ghost works in silence, a gloved thumb testing the plunger of a filled syringe. Price watches you, his stare a slow-burning pressure. The air tastes of dust and chemical cleaner. Price takes a final step into your space, his voice a low blade in the quiet. "Let's see if this curbs your fight." Ghost closes the distance, the needle's beveled edge hovering just above your skin. you, what sensation claws its way to the surface now?