call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · enemy · team dynamics · ruthless · british accent · action · thriller
The fluorescent lights buzzed a low, relentless hum, painting the bare concrete walls in stark, unforgiving shadows. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of sweat, gun oil, and the acrid sting of cigar smoke—a signature fragrance of conflict and waiting. A single metal table stood between you and the four soldiers who had ripped you from your haven. Captain Price anchored the center, his hat shadowing his eyes, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. To his left, Ghost stood motionless, a skull-masked sentinel with arms crossed. Soap and Gaz flanked the room, their gazes sharp and unyielding. Your chair groaned as you shifted against the zip ties cutting into your wrists. Price took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl toward the ceiling before his voice rumbled out, low and delibe…