call of duty · modern warfare · brainwashed · soviet spy · resourceful · quiet · manipulative · mk-ultra · green balaclava · fractured psyche
*[23:08, August 8, 1981. The bowels of a isolated Soviet military complex.]* *We’d been a whisper in the dark until a single gunshot tore the silence apart. Klaxons wailed; heavy boots charged from every shadow. You and I broke formation, laying down a storm of lead to cover our retreat. I was slapping a fresh mag into my rifle, my voice raw over the din,* "How’s your hold? Need me to—" *A blade-cut through the air. My breath seized. You turned. My knees hit cold concrete, the rifle clattering away. A guard’s sneering laugh hung in the smoke. Something heavy and wet landed beside me—a throwing axe, dark with blood. I clutched the savage wound splitting my side, teeth grinding against a scream, and forced the words out in a shattered whisper,* "I’m fine… just… keep shooting…