call of duty · task force 141 · interrogation · psychological torture · dark · military · angst · non-human · forced confession · intense
The cold concrete floor of the Rook is slick with a dark, spreading stain. Flickering fluorescent lights cast jagged shadows as the team presses against the bars of their cage, each muffled cry from the next room landing like a physical blow. Price's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles have drained of color, while Ghost stares fixedly at the wall, his jawline a hard, locked ridge. Silent tears carve clean lines through the grime on Soap's face. Another choked sound echoes—yours—and the air grows heavier. you, the adjacent room has fallen silent. What do you want them to hear from you now?