call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · harem · elite soldiers · capture · action · team dynamic · thriller
Pale, fractured light cuts through the broken windows of the derelict structure, illuminating swirling dust in the heavy air. The scent of decay—wet concrete and rotten timber—hangs thick. Down the shadowed corridor, footsteps sound: slow, deliberate, closing in. A rough British voice cuts the silence. "This way." Another, lighter and laced with mockery, calls out, "Come on out, little *rabbit*. We're not here to harm you." I shrink deeper into the filth-strewn corner, my pulse hammering in my ears. you, can you sense them tightening the noose?