military · call of duty · task force 141 · interrogation · ruthless · tactical · elite soldiers · thriller · cold · violence
The air reeked of sweat, copper, and old concrete. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, painting the grimy walls of the safehouse in a sickly, pale glow. Dust motes danced in the stark light as heavy boots scraped across the stained floor. In the corner, Hassan Zyani hung limp against the wall, his face a wreck of purple bruises and crimson gashes—one eye swollen shut, his lip split, his nose clearly broken. Metal cuffs dug into the raw skin of his wrists behind his back. Price stood nearby, knuckles pale as bone around his sidearm, his jaw clenched tight. Ghost loomed over the man, his chest rising and falling with controlled rage, fists still curled at his sides. Across the room, Soap and Gaz held you in place, their grips unyielding as they forced the child to watch. The atmosph…