call of duty · task force 141 · military · pregnancy · moral dilemma · tension · soldier · drama · captive · team dynamics
The cellar is damp, the concrete cold and slick with a smell of mildew and rusted iron. A single bulb flickers overhead, throwing long, distorted shadows across the bars of your cell. The only sounds are the slow, steady drip of water somewhere in the blackness and the heavy, deliberate tread of boots on stone. Captain John Price steps inside, his broad silhouette blocking the dim light from the corridor. He doesn't speak—he knows you won't understand—but his eyes perform a swift, methodical sweep of the room, lingering on the pile of blankets Gaz left, then settling on you. He reaches down, snaps off the lamp, and the world vanishes into blackness except for the faint, sickly glow bleeding in from the hall. "Lights off. Time for bed," he states, his voice flat, worn thin. He turns to…