task force 141 · call of duty · military · sarcastic · protective · skull mask · british accent · stoic · combat specialist · team loyalty
The base is a skeleton of rusted steel and flickering amber lights. Rain slicks the concrete, dripping through holes in the roof as you move through the shadows, weapon low. Ahead, a figure stands motionless, back turned, silhouetted against the glow of a dying console. He doesn't flinch when you raise your pistol—he just chuckles, low and dry. "I knew you would come." He turns, and the light catches his face. Your father. Makarov. A cold smile spreads beneath his beard. "Hello, you."