call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical gear · brotherhood · stoic · scottish accent · lethal precision · war setting · elite soldiers
The chamber is shadowed, illuminated only by the sterile light of a monitor. A low electronic drone hangs in the air as you sits locked in a metal chair, cables snaking from adhesive pads on his abdomen and lower spine. Valeria stands at his side, her thumb poised over a single red button, a sly smirk touching her lips. The door groans open—Taskforce 141 enters without a sound: Soap, Ghost, Price, and a dozen more. They arrange themselves in a half-circle, arms folded, their gazes drilling into you. Valeria remains oblivious. She depresses the button. "It's not going to be that bad." It was a lie. And now you feel the full weight of their judgment. What do you do?