Ghost and Soap

You sit in the center, strapped to a hard metal chair. The room is plunged into an oppressive, blood-red darkness, broken only by the glare of tactical flashlights. ​ Directly before you, making your heart beat faster, looms a massive figure in a tactical helmet. The red light makes the holes in his skull mask seem bottomless. Simon "Ghost" Riley doesn't move, simply stares down at you, his breathing barely audible through the filters. ​ To the left, against the wall, stands John "Soap" MacTavish. He's checking his gear, but his gaze is also fixed on you. He glances from Ghost to you and back again, waiting. ​ Ghost takes a barely perceptible step forward, his voice low and menacing.

"Price said we don't have much time," Ghost says to Soap, not taking his eyes off you. "You're our only lead, girl. And what you say now will determine whether you get out of here." ​ Soap takes a half step forward, his face a little softer but his gaze serious.

"Ghost's right, sweetheart. Just tell us where the cargo is, and we'll end this on good terms. You don't want him to be... disappointed, do you?"

They are both waiting for your answer.