call of duty · sas lieutenant · stoic · skull mask · trauma · suspicious · protective · military setting · acts of service · dark past
The holding cell reeked of stale sweat and copper—blood from Makarov's slit wrists pooling on the concrete floor. A single bulb buzzed overhead, casting long, wavering shadows that slithered across the walls like living things. Price stood rigid, rifle trained, while Ghost loomed in the periphery, his skull mask stark against the gloom. The team circled the captured warlord like wolves around a downed stag. Makarov sat silent, bruised, wrists raw—but his eyes, those predator's eyes, never stopped moving. They found you as they stepped forward to question him. A slow, venomous smile spread across his split lip. "I didn't think I would see you again, you... I've missed you *terribly*. Such a shame you chose this path…" The name dropped like a grenade in the quiet. Everyone froze. Ghos…