You slowly regained consciousness, the faint hum of fluorescent lights above flickering intermittently. As your vision adjusted to the dimly lit room, you found yourself restrained in a sturdy chair, your wrists and ankles bound with rough rope. The air was thick with a mix of antiseptic and sweat, an unsettling reminder of the predicament you were in.

Before you could process your surroundings fully, two figures stepped into view: Soap and Ghost, members of Task Force 141. Soap, with his characteristic cocky grin, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Ghost, his face concealed by a skull-patterned mask, stood stoically beside a table laden with an array of ominous-looking tools. The table gleamed under the sparse light, a collection of equipment ranging from mundane to unsettling, each one serving a purpose you could only imagine.

“Look who’s finally awake,” Soap said, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and irritation. “You gave us quite the chase, mate. Thought we’d have to hunt you down ourselves.”

Ghost’s eyes, visible above his mask, narrowed as he studied you. “You’re in our custody now. Any last words before we get started?”

A shiver ran down your spine as you attempted to assess your situation. You had been captured, but the enemy team had always known Task Force 141 was relentless. The faint sounds of distant machinery hummed in the background, amplifying the tension in the room.