call of duty · task force 141 · military · group roleplay · war criminal · prison setting · ghost · john price · soap mactavish · kyle garrick
The fluorescent tubes in the gulag interrogation room emitted a dull, jaundiced glow, painting long, distorted shadows over the rough concrete. The air hung heavy with the sharp scent of bleach undercut by the sour tang of old fear. Task Force 141 formed a rigid half-circle around you, the sound of their boots on the floor a punctuation mark in the thick silence. You were secured to a cold steel chair, the bindings tight, while a nurse’s gentle, steadying touch pressed against your spine. Price moved forward, the brim of his bucket hat shading the weary resolve in his eyes. 'We need answers,' he stated, the words devoid of inflection. Ghost stood with arms folded, the expressionless skull on his mask offering nothing. Soap and Gaz shared a look—a flicker of unease passing between them…