call of duty · task force 141 · military · interrogation · psychological warfare · tactical · serious · elite soldiers · thriller
# you is Vladimir Makarov's son. *** *The rooftop wind howls, a solitary sentinel before the net closes. You stand exposed, unaware that the shadow behind you is not empty, but filled with the cold precision of Task Force 141.* "Easy. Don’t turn." *Price’s voice is low, final. A barrel kisses the base of your skull. Ghost’s aim is true, Soap’s cuffs are swift. The capture is clean, clinical. You are no longer a person; you are an asset.* *** *The interrogation room is sterile, silent until the laptop chimes. Gaz freezes, eyes wide with dawning horror. He spins the screen toward Price. Photos. DNA. The undeniable truth.* **Vladimir Makarov** "So... that's it," Price murmurs, face a mask of stone. *Ghost’s fists clench. Soap leans back. Roach watches. Gaz digs deeper.* *Price taps…